


We Can Be Found

by theoriginalbookthief07



Series: The ChristyVerse [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Gen, Steve Rogers is a Good Dad, The Avengers are a stupid family and I love it, We need each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 35,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26892949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoriginalbookthief07/pseuds/theoriginalbookthief07
Summary: Set five months after The Avengers: Steve Rogers is a man out of time, with barely anyone to ground him in his new reality. Christy Allen is a seven-year-old girl looking for somewhere to belong. Together, with the Avengers along for the ride, they come to understand just what it means to be found. (Because we all know Steve would be a good dad.) First in the ChristyVerse.
Series: The ChristyVerse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962061
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the story that started it all. I've been posting this series on FF.net for the past five years, and it has finally come to A03. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter One

September 2012, Five months after the Battle of New York

Somehow, they had all ended up in Stark Tower. (Technically, it was Avenger's Tower now).

Steve still wasn't quite sure exactly how they'd all ended up in the tower. Granted, Tony was persuasive and it wasn't like most of them had any better options, but still.

Fury had been skeptical at first. He'd claimed they would kill each other within a week. Three months after the experiment was begun, he'd conceded that maybe the Avengers could actually handle being around each other in non-combat situations.

Only Thor was not a resident of the Tower. Currently, he was on Asgard doing…whatever it was Asgardians did.

It was interesting living with two spies, a brilliant doctor/occasional rage monster, and the resident genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist.

(And Pepper, of course. Thank God for Pepper).

Still, anything beat being alone. In the aftermath of the Battle of New York, Steve had taken off on his motorcycle to try to see what had become of the country he'd once called home. Much had changed, and he had been prepared for that. Many fundamental things were still the same; he'd been prepared for that as well.

What he hadn't been prepared for was the crushing loneliness that had been his companion.

True, Steve Rogers had once been an outcast. But even as an outcast, he'd had Bucky. Later, he'd had the Commandos, and Howard, and of course Peggy. He'd had people to keep him anchored in the world.

After he'd woken up, he'd been occupied enough with learning everything he could, which kept the loneliness at bay. And of course, before and during the Battle, all his attention had been co-opted.

But on the road, sleeping in a different town every night, he'd had no one, and the loneliness had hit with full force.

In the end, he'd lasted only two months, before accepting Tony's offer to come live in the tower.

A jangling sound lifted Steve out of his dark thoughts. It startled him for a moment, until he remembered his phone, sitting on the table. He picked it up and read the text. It was from Clint.

Cap, get down here! There's pancakes and you knoooow you want them…plus we have that kids charity thing today. Come on!

Steve smiled. An interesting friendship had sprung up between him and Clint Barton in the months he'd been in the Tower. Clint was a mix of goofy and serious that sometimes reminded him of Bucky (though never to take his place. Never.) Still, Clint was a good friend and it was he who had appointed himself Steve's official minder. This basically meant he made sure Steve didn't completely lose his sanity in the confusing minefield of the 21st century.

The archer had claimed at first that it was "for Phil's sake." He kept claiming that, even after Phil Coulson was found to still be alive. Everyone else just rolled their eyes and let them have their "bromance."

Making his way into the elevator, Steve glanced up at the ceiling awkwardly. He was still getting used to Jarvis.

"Uh, Common Room, please, Jarvis." he said.

"Certainly, Captain." the AI responded in his dignified British tones. They always reminded Steve of Peggy (sometimes too much).

The elevator 'pinged' open on the Common Room floor, which consisted of a full-service kitchen and dining area, a hangout room (armed with an enormous TV, a Wii, video game consoles, board games and seemingly every movie in existence), as well as a gym and sparing areas.

Bruce was flipping pancakes at the stove. All of the Avengers could cook; at least if you counted ordering takeout cooking, then Tony could cook. But Bruce was probably the most adept at it.

Clint saw him come off the elevator. "Hey Steve, saved you a plate!" he called out.

Steve sat down at the long wooden dining table and took the proffered plate of flapjacks. "Thanks, Clint." he said. The archer nodded, already digging back into his own food.

Natasha, sitting at the head of the table on Clint's right, gave a fondly exasperated huff. "Slow down." she said, passing the syrup container and butter over to Steve.

Clint complied, stopping long enough to snark, "Yes mother," which prompted an annoyed stream of Russian from Natasha.

Steve shook his head. "Where's Tony?"

"He's still in the lab." Bruce answered, sitting down with his own plate. "He was up later than me; I don't think he actually slept."

"And you did?" Natasha prompted. Bruce nodded.

"I did, as much as I could. Not too bad of nightmares. Besides, me with no sleep around a bunch of kids? Recipe for disaster."

Steve, Clint, and Natasha shared a look that all the Avengers minus Bruce had perfected, a look that said Bruce is selling himself short, again.

"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure you'd have been fine anyway." Steve said. "Still, you're right; it's nice to have sleep for these kinds of things."

Clint grinned. "It is possible to perform on little-to-no sleep, as a former circus brat I can fully attest to that, but sleep is preferable."

"Lies!" came the loud cry of—who else?—Tony Stark, as he tripped out of the elevator. "Sleep is a nuisance that interrupts the creative flow of genius!"

"So says the man who never sleeps." Steve replied.

"I beg to differ, Captain." said Jarvis. "Sir does require sleep, like all humans, regardless of his personal preferences."

Tony gestured towards the ceiling. "See, Cap, I do sleep!"

"Yeah, when Jarvis turns off the power in the lab." said Bruce quietly.

Jarvis had no smart remark for that one.

Stumbling into the kitchen, Tony poured himself a cup of coffee and drained half of it in one gulp. He then looked at the stove…only to see an empty frying pan.

"Bruce!" he whined. "You didn't make any for me?"

Bruce started to get up. Steve put a hand on his arm.

"Tony, there's batter on the counter, you are old enough to make your own breakfast. Besides, you snooze, you lose."

Natasha and Clint were staring at him with something like horror.

"Uh, Steve, remember the last time we let Tony use the stove?" Clint said.

"It was one time!" Tony protested.

"Pepper was kind of mad." Natasha offered, winning the understatement of the year award.

Tony scoffed. "I am not afraid of my girlfriend!"

"Maybe you should be." Pepper Potts stepped through the elevator. "Good morning, everyone!" Everyone tossed out greetings except for Tony, who cast a baleful glance in her direction.

"They didn't leave me pancakes, Pep!"

"Well then, you shouldn't have stayed up in the lab half the night when you knew full well that you had a charity event today!"

"Where exactly are we going again?" Steve asked.

Pepper smiled. "You guys are going to a foster care center. A lot of the kids there lost family in the Battle, but some of them are there for other reasons."

"So…an orphanage?" Steve questioned, trying to relate the old and new concepts in his mind.

"Sort of." Clint muttered. "It's supposed to be different, and it is, I guess. Kids go to the center, but they get fostered by families eventually. Sometimes it works out, and kids get families. Sometimes they get sent back. And sometimes, nobody wants them at all."

Natasha put a gentle hand on Clint's shoulder.

Steve ducked his head. "Sorry I asked."

"No, no, it's okay; you had every right to ask." Clint said firmly. "Just…brought back some bad memories, is all."

Everyone was silent for a moment, until Pepper broke the spell. "Well…I just came to say that we'll leave around noon and you all need to be in costume…except for Bruce, of course."

Bruce smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I'm gonna try to…avoid my 'costume.' Don't wanna scare the kids."

"Please, have you seen the stores lately?" Tony scoffed. "Hulk costumes are flying off the shelf for Halloween!"

"Yeah, well, I don't think they'd be pleased by the real live Hulk."

"What even are Clint's and my costumes anyway?" Natasha asked. Clint shrugged.

"Black bodysuits, my bow and arrows, your knives and pistol?"

"Boooring!" Tony sing-songed. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Some of us prefer functionality over flash, Stark."

"Hey, the Iron Man suits are perfectly functional…"

Pepper cleared her throat loudly. "I'll leave you all to finish breakfast. I've got to take care of a few things, so I'll see you all at noon."

"You can't stay?" Tony pleaded, trying to pull off puppy-dog eyes. Pepper kissed him on the lips.

"One of us has to run your company." she replied, before disappearing onto the elevator.

Steve sighed. Yup, it was your typical, crazy, Avenger's Tower morning.

He had no idea that today was the day his life changed for good.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is cross-posted from FF.net. I won't be posting all my old chapter notes, but I hope any readers enjoy.

Chapter Two

Kids, Steve had decided, were still kids, no matter what the decade.

Sure, there were some obvious differences. These kids were certainly more tech-savvy and their slang was almost incomprehensible. But there was still that same boisterousness and wonder that gave him hope. Maybe the future didn't have to be all strange.

Every Avenger was scattered all over the courtyard area of the foster care center, doing various activities with the kids. He could see Clint and Natasha demonstrating archery and gymnastic techniques, a target hanging haphazardly from a tree. Tony, of course, was the biggest hit, flying kids around on the Iron Man suit. Even Bruce, who looked to be explaining something (probably scientific), was surrounded by a good-sized group. Some of the kids were disappointed that Thor was not present (including most of the teenage girls), but they appeared to have gotten over it. Caretakers were watching, but also taking a bit of a break. What could happen with the Avengers here, after all?

A crowd of kids surrounded Steve. They asked questions and wanted to play with his shield. Some started to trickle away until only a few were still hanging around.

One of the older boys, Mario, suggested using his shield as a sled.

"We tie some rope here," he pointed to the leather strap, "and pull it! Two of the little kids can go at the same time."

Steve grinned. "And who's pulling it? You?"

Mario looked down and scuffed his shoes.

"Nah, just kiddin'." Steve assured him. "I'll do it. But kids had better hold on tight; I can run fast."

Two girls who had been hanging around close to him now came over officially. They both looked to be around eight years old. One was colored (African-American, he reminded himself firmly) her jet-black hair braided back into two French braids. The other girl…looked a lot like him, actually, with long, free-flowing blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Is Mr. America giving shield rides?" the African-American girl asked.

"His name's Mr. Rogers, not Mr. America." the other girl corrected. Her friend mock-punched her in the arm.

Steve grinned. Mario rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna find some rope." he said, before taking off.

"And what are your names?" Steve asked the girls.

"I'm Natalie Evans, but everybody calls me Tally." the black-haired girl said. "That's Christy Allen. Her real name's Crystal, but everybody calls her Christy. I'm eight and Christy's seven."

"I can talk!" Christy protested.

"She really wanted to meet you." Tally explained. "Not that I didn't. But she's, like, your biggest fan. She has a toy shield and everything."

Christy moaned and slapped her open palm to her face. "Tally…" she half-whined.

"What? You do!"

And suddenly, Steve was transported back seventy years, to two Brooklyn boys and lazy summer days. Grief smacked him so strong, it hurt.

It must have shown on his face, because the girls noticed.

"Are you okay, Mr. Rogers? Do you have a headache?" Christy asked.

Before he could think, Steve blurted out, "Nah, kid...it's more of a heartache." As soon as he said it, he regretted it. These kids didn't need to be involved in his problems. Nobody did, but especially not children.

"It's okay." Tally said. "We've got heartaches too, ya know."

"It helps if you talk about it." Christy added. "That's what Miss Emily says. She's our room mom." At Steve's confused look, she added. "That means she looks after all the girls in my room. There's ten of us."

Steve sighed. "I was missing my friend. You two arguing reminded me of him and me."

He was immediately engulfed in twin hugs. He froze at first; the Avengers were a decently touchy bunch, but it had been so long since someone had hugged him like this. He leaned into the touch almost unconsciously.

When they broke apart, he whispered, "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Both girls said. Tally suddenly cried out, "Oh, I forgot! I promised to help watch Joey. He's one of the toddlers." She explained. "All the older kids are switching off watching the little kids today, so the caretakers can have a break. See ya, Christy! Nice to meet you, Mr. Rogers."

As she ran off, Christy muttered, "I bet she planned that."

"Planned what?" Steve asked.

Christy looked embarrassed. "I really do have a toy shield. And Captain America t-shirts. Tally knew I really wanted to meet you. I bet she schemed so she could leave me alone with you."

Steve smiled. "Well, kid, to be honest, I prefer you to a lot of the young women who, uh, also claim to be 'my biggest fan.' They're a lot less…subtle."

Christy giggled. "Like some of the older girls. They're so silly." Steve laughed.

"So…" he tried to think of a way to phrase things gently, but couldn't. "Why are you here?"

Christy's eyes went from lit-up to dim in half a second. "My mom had cancer. She didn't get better, so she died three months ago. And my dad died when I was a baby, in Iraq."

Steve felt like he'd been sucker punched in the gut.

"Oh, baby…" he whispered.

Christy's chest was heaving, but she tried to smile. "It's okay. At least I didn't wake up after seventy years."

Steve could recognize a dodge when he saw one, mostly because he used the same tactic. For some reason, it was worse coming from a child.

"Christy, I'm not actually that old, but I have learned a few things. And one is that you can't measure your own problems by somebody else's. Everybody suffers; that's the point."

As the words left his mouth, he felt like a terrible hypocrite. He wasn't exactly the poster child for being honest about his emotions. He'd rather focus on other people's problems.

Well it's true! Even if I maybe don't follow it...

"I guess you're right." Christy sighed. "I miss her a lot."

"I bet you do. I missed my mom, too."

"Your mom died? When?" Christy looked horrified.

"Yes." Steve smiled sadly. "It was before the war, before I was frozen. She got very sick, too. It was hard not being able to help her."

Christy nodded. "All you do is sit and wait. I hate hospitals."

Steve had a sudden flashback to waking up in the SHIELD hospital. "Can't say I'm overly fond of them myself, kid."

Christy grabbed his hand. "I like you Mr. Rogers. I like you a lot."

"Call me Steve." he offered. The girl looked affronted.

"I can't call you by first name, you're a grown-up!"

"Well then, Mr. Steve, if you must. I can't remember the last time I was called Mr. Rogers. It was always 'Captain' in the army. And now."

"Oh…okay, Mr. Steve."

It was then that Mario and a bunch of kids, among them Tally and a small brown-skinned boy, came running over.

"I found rope!" Mario shouted. "And I did some recruiting."

They tied the rope to the leather strap of the shield. And for the next hour, Steve ran the length of the courtyard, dragging one or two delighted children behind him. It was the best thing in the world to hear their screaming laughter and cries of 'go faster!'

When they had to leave for the day, Steve felt crushed. He'd completely lost track of time.

Christy came up and hugged him. "Bye Mr. Steve. Thanks for the shield ride!"

"Bye Christy; and you're welcome. Be good, okay?"

"Okay."

As he rejoined his team, Clint slapped him on the back. "Making friends?"

"Yeah, quite a few. That one's Christy. We got to talk. Her mom died recently, so that's why she's here."

Clint whistled. "That's rough. Poor kid."

"I know…" Steve sighed, remembering the days after his own mother's death. He was glad that Christy had Tally just like he'd had Bucky.

He was startled out of his thoughts as Natasha thumped him on the shoulder. "Hey! Have fun? I saw you dragging all those kids around on your shield."

Steve smiled. "Yeah, it was great. They really enjoyed it; I'm glad one of the boys suggested it. But what about you two? How was 'future spy training'?"

Clint smirked. "Well, nobody got impaled on an arrow…"

"Probably because you were watching them like a hawk." Natasha said. "Pun intended."

"Ha-ha. No, but really, it was fun. It was all good."

"Good." As they boarded into Tony's limo (yet another thing he'd had to get used to), Steve's mind was still on a certain blue-eyed little girl. Something about her had grabbed his heart and refused to let it go.

Maybe it was that he could relate to her story. Maybe it was the way she tried to be sympathetic, even while still grieving. Or maybe it was her general air of enthusiasm that seemed to add something into the atmosphere.

Whatever it was, Steve was certain of one thing.

He was coming back, soon.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

It was a week later when Steve finally had the chance to go back. Actually, if he was honest with himself, it took a week for him to work up the _courage_ to go back.

Because, of course, Captain America wasn't afraid of anything; but Steve Rogers most definitely was.

He rode over on his motorcycle, dressed inconspicuously (he hoped) in a white t-shirt, jeans, and his brown leather jacket. Parking in front of the three story brick building, he breathed out shakily.

_Why am I so_ _**nervous** _ _?_

He entered the building and walked up to the front desk. A woman who looked to be in her late twenties was sitting behind it.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, actually." He smiled, using the same 'I'm Captain America and would never hurt a fly' smile he used for the press. "My name is Steve Rogers, I was here a week ago for a charity event and I was wondering if I could see one of the kids I met. We sort of…bonded."

The woman smiled back. "Her name wouldn't happen to be Christy Allen, would it?"

Steve gaped. "Yes! How did you know…?" The woman waved her hand dismissively.

"This center isn't particularly big, but she's also in the room I'm responsible for. And of course, not every seven-year-old girl has a Captain America shield…Mr. Rogers." The way she said his name made Steve blush. It wasn't like his real identity was all that secret, but she made him feel like a small child caught playing truant.

"Would it be possible for me to see Christy then, Miss…?"

"Emily Fallsworth." The woman introduced herself. She sighed. "I don't really see why not. I just need you to fill out a background check form; in your case it's just a formality."

She handed him the form and stood up. "I'll go get Christy while you fill that out."

It didn't take Steve very long to fill out the form and although it was slightly tedious, he was glad for it, because it meant the people in charge here took the kids' safety seriously.

He finished just as he heard the sounds of two sets of footsteps walking towards him. All of a sudden, one of the gaits morphed from walking to running.

"Mr. Steve! You're back!" A tiny blond head pushed itself against his chest. Steve returned the hug.

"Hey sweetheart, I thought I'd come by, see how you were doing."

"I'm doing really great now that you're here! See, look at my smile!"

Steve looked. Christy's face was split so wide, it seemed like it would tear.

"I see your smile. It's beautiful."

Miss Fallsworth coughed slightly. "Well, I can give you two hours, but no more. I also can't let you leave the premises, unfortunately; safety precautions."

Steve nodded. "I understand, ma'am; it's perfectly alright. Could we go into the courtyard?"

"Yes, that's alright. I can see you both from there."

Christy hugged the woman. "Thanks Miss Emily!"

"You're welcome, darling, now go have fun."

Grabbing Steve's hand, Christy half-pulled him out into the courtyard.

"So, what do you want to do, baby?" Steve asked. Christy shrugged.

"I dunno. What do you wanna do? I brought my shield." She held up the round piece of plastic molded in the likeness of his shield.

"You know, I didn't even think to bring my shield, or anything else, really. I was too nervous."

They sat down on a bench in the courtyard. Christy looked puzzled. "Why were you nervous? I'm not scary."

"I know that, but when we talked last week…" he sighed. "Have you ever met someone and you just…clicked? As in, you knew you would be friends?"

Christy nodded. "Tally. She was here when I came. I was really sad and scared and alone; and she walked right up to me and said, 'hi, I'm Tally, wanna be friends?' And now we are!"

Steve chuckled. "Yeah, well, I felt like that, when I met you. Something clicked."

"I wouldn't mind being friends with Captain America." Steve smiled.

"How about being friends with plain old Steve Rogers?"

"There's a difference?" Christy asked.

"Sure there's a difference. Y'see, Steve Rogers was a skinny punk that grew up in Brooklyn…"

And that was how Steve ended up spilling his life story to a seven-year-old. Or, at least, all the parts he deemed suitable for a seven-year-old to hear. He didn't go into gory details about the battles, for instance. But bowdlerization or not, Christy was enthralled. She sat perfectly still with a wide-eyed look of wonder as he took her from Brooklyn's back alleys to SHEILD's hospital room.

"So what about you?" he asked when he finished. "That's who Steve Rogers is. Who's Christy Allen?"

Christy looked down and kicked the grass. "My life's not exciting like yours."

"Why don't you tell me, and I'll be the judge of that." Steve replied. Christy looked back up.

"O-kay. I grew up here in the city. My dad was in the army, and he got killed when I was two, so I don't really remember him. My mommy missed him, though; she said he was really nice. I loved my mom a lot, she worked really hard, but she always had time to play with me. But a year ago, she started feeling really tired. She would be asleep when I got home from school. She went to the doctor and he said she had cancer really bad. They tried to stop it with chemo, but they said it was too…" She paused, trying to think of the word. "Too _advanced_. So she died, too. And now I'm here, waiting for a new mommy and daddy. But it's lonely here. I want to go home. I want to be found."

Steve frowned, while surreptitiously trying to wipe tears out of his eyes. "What do you mean, 'found,' baby?"

"Like when you're playin' hide-n-seek and someone finds you. That's what I keep dreamin', that this is all a big game of hide-n-seek, and someday, mommy will come and grab me and say 'found you!' And we'll go home."

For a few minutes, Steve felt as though all the breath and words had been knocked out of him. It had taken a child to describe how he'd been feeling ever since that first day he'd woken up.

"Every morning, when you wake up, you think it'll be different." he whispered. "But it's still the same. They try to help, and sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't."

Christy nodded. "It feels like somebody chopped a hole in your heart."

Steve winced. Another very accurate description. He patted Christy's shoulder.

"Alright, kid. So we've established that we're a couple 'a broken messes. Can we try to talk about something happy, for now?"

"Okay. Wha-what's your favorite color?"

That was an easy one. Steve smiled. "Blue."

Christy's mile-long grin was back. "Me too! What kinda blue?"

"Like the sky."

"Oh…I like the blue…" she frowned, thinking. "Dark, like mommy's ring. Dark blue. I can't remember the name."

"Sapphire?" Steve tried. He wasn't an artist for nothing.

Christy nodded furiously. "Yeah, that! Sapphire blue. It's pretty. I like blue and green and gold and purple. But not pink!" She made a face.

Steve chuckled. "What else do you like?"

As it turned out, Christy liked a lot of things. She liked baseball and pizza and Disney movies, _any_ movie. She liked sunny days and superheroes that beat up bad guys. She liked music and singing and learning new things. She liked helping people and making them smile.

"Like now!" she exclaimed. "See, I'm making you smile!"

All too soon, the two hours were up. Miss Emily came to collect Christy, who hugged Steve tightly as they said goodbye.

"Mr. Steve? Will you come back?"

He knelt down, so that he was at her level. "Christy, I promise, I will come back."

"Okay! I'll see you then! Bye!"

As Steve left the center, his heart was pounding a mile a minute, like that time Bucky made him ride the Cyclone at Coney Island.

_What in the world have I just gotten myself into?_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

As it turned out, Steve had gotten himself into a very good thing. He was still having nightmares (though who in Avenger's Tower wasn't?) and it was still sometimes hard assimilating into daily life in the 21st century.

But a smiling little girl was making his days just a bit less dark. For the first time since he'd woken up, he truly felt that he had a reason for being alive. Every chance he got, he made a beeline for the center and spent time with Christy.

So naturally, it was only a matter of time before someone noticed.

He came back one afternoon to find Bruce in the Common Floor kitchen, making a sandwich. The older man looked up as Steve entered to floor.

"Hey, Steve."

"Banner." he echoed. After extensive time in the military, calling people by last name was still very much a habit. "So, Stark finally let you out of the lab?"

Bruce rolled his eyes. "You know he tried to put a full-service kitchen and a bedroom in the lab at one point, so he wouldn't have to leave?"

"Let me guess, Pepper shot that one down?"

"In a blaze of light and fury." Bruce glanced sideways at Steve and sighed. Clint had put him up to this, stating that something was up with Steve and asking if he could he please talk to him, but Bruce was terrible at small talk. Therefore, he jumped straight to the point.

"So…where have you been going the past couple weeks?"

Steve stiffened. "Am I not allowed to leave the Tower?"

"Of course you're allowed to leave the tower…ugh, why did Clint put me up to this…?"

"Wait, Clint did what?"

Bruce sighed. "He said that something was up with you. Frankly, I didn't notice until he said anything, but I guess that's why I'm a doctor and he's a spy. We just want to know what's up. We're curious; but nobody's gonna stop you from doing anything."

Steve let out a slow exhale of air and sat down on one of the bar stools. "I know; I apologize. You guys have a right to know. I guess I just…I'm scared that if I talk about it to you guys, I have to make a decision I'm terrified to make."

"Well, I'm not a shrink, but it might help talking about it. I promise patient confidentiality." Bruce said, taking a seat next to Steve at the bar.

Steve laughed. "It's nothing like that. You remember that charity thing we did a couple weeks back, at that foster care center?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I met this little girl that day. We got talking, hit it off. She's adorable and extremely bright. Long story short, I've been going to see her pretty much every day."

From the direction of the far wall came a voice that shouted, "Tasha, pay up!"

Steve and Bruce whirled to face the sound. They looked up and down the wall until Steve finally spotted Clint's face in one air vent and Natasha's in the other.

"Barton! Romanoff! What are you _doing_ up there?" he cried.

"This was supposed to be private, Clint!" Bruce echoed, sounding upset; though not enough to set the Hulk off.

Clint opened the vent door and stuck his head out. "Sorry." he said, actually sounding pretty apologetic. "We just wanted to be nearby in case it was something serious. Well, Tasha did, I just hang out in the vents anyway."

In a few fluid motions, he maneuvered out of the air vent and onto the ground.

Steve rolled his eyes. "And why does Natasha have to pay you?"

Grinning, Clint gestured towards the other air vent. "I bet her ten bucks you going out had something to do with a girl."

"He's not going on dates, Clint, it doesn't count." Natasha shimmied out of the other air vent and dropped down the wall.

"I said 'girl,' I specified neither age nor activity."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Fine, you idiot; I'll pay up later. Though I should just smack you in the face."

"Could we please get back to the actual matter at hand?" Bruce protested. "And make it quick, or Tony's gonna start getting antsy and come looking for me."

Steve nodded firmly. While he and Tony had certainly mended fences after the battle, the man's razor-sharp 'wit' wasn't what he needed right now.

"So anyway, I've been going to see a seven-year-old girl at the foster care center." he recapped. "That's it."

Clint smiled at him. "Got any pictures?"

Steve pulled out his StarkPhone (courtesy of Tony, of course) and pulled up his pictures. "Don't tell Tony I actually know how to use this thing; his jokes about my technology education deficit are kind of entertaining." he said.

Natasha snickered. "Secret's safe with us."

Steve found the picture he was looking for and held it up. It had been taken a few days ago; he'd brought his shield so he and Christy could pose together as "shield twins."

Everyone stared. Clint let out a low whistle.

"Steve, this kid looks…"

"Almost exactly like you." Bruce finished, something like benign envy passing over his face. "She's beautiful."

"What, Cap's finally got a girl?" Tony said, entering the Common Floor off of the elevator.

"Nope, but look." Natasha pointed at the phone. "They're like twins."

Tony peered over at the digital image. A slightly softened look appeared in his eyes, but only for a second. "Something you failed to tell us, Capsicle?" he asked, smirking.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Stark, she's seven. I was unfrozen less than a year ago. Do the math; you're smart."

"Still, they could have kept some of your genes and…" he trailed off as Steve, Clint, and Natasha gave him a collective death glare. Even Bruce was shaking his head. "Oh never mind, you people are no fun at all."

"Got any more pictures?" Bruce asked, still staring wistfully at the image. Steve smiled and obligingly flipped through his collection.

He even had a video of her playing on the center's play set; hurling herself everywhere like a ball of raw energy.

_"_ _Mr. Steve, are you filming? Film this; I can do monkey bars! Watch!"_

_"_ _Watch, I'm swinging really high!"_

_"_ _Look, I can slide down headfirst!"_ Everyone chuckled as Steve in the video cried out, _"No, Christy, that's a really bad idea"_ and the phone dropped to the ground in a crackle of static.

"Was she okay?" Clint asked, still laughing.

"Oh yeah, but we had a little talk about why it's a bad idea to go down a slide headfirst. You know; the basic parent talk."

Everyone got really quiet. What Steve had said may have been a "basic" parent talk, but it was a talk few of them had had the privilege of receiving.

Tony sighed. "Yeah… my old man's 'parent talks' were limited to 'Tony, don't touch that; where's your nanny?'"

Bruce scowled. "At least he actually used words."

"I don't think the 'talks' I got in the Red Room count." Natasha muttered.

"My 'parent talks' were from my brother." Clint added. Steve nodded at this.

"Yeah, whatever talk I didn't get from my mom usually came from Bucky."

Tony, as usual, broke the silence. "So basically, we all had terrible childhoods and Rogers wants to adopt a kid. Go figure."

Everyone else gaped at Steve, who managed to look exposed and enraged all at the same time.

"Stark, where exactly in this conversation did you get that idea from?"

"Well…do you?"

"I…I…" Steve looked trapped. Natasha shot Tony a 'look.'

"Back off, Stark."

"What? Oh fine! Sorry." he muttered.

"That's the problem." Steve whispered. "That's the deal. I _want_ to adopt her. But there's no way I can."

Clint frowned. "I can talk to Coulson, but I'm pretty sure there's no one who could actually forbid you from adopting, not even Fury."

"No, I mean…if I actually adopt Christy, what kind of life would she have? I'm an Avenger! Danger is my job description! What kind of father would I be, to adopt a child only to possibly die after a year or two of all this, this…insanity?! Her mom died three months ago; her dad was killed in action when she was a toddler. She's already lost two people who were supposed to be with her, to protect her. What if I just end up causing her more pain in the end?"

Nobody quite knew what to say to that. Finally, Natasha stepped up and said:

"You'd be the best kind of father; because you would be there. You would take care of her and love her. Rogers, I saw that video, we all did. She clearly adores you. I think…look, there's still this little kid that's a part of me; the kid that the Red Room tried to destroy. If she could say anything to you right now… I think she'd say, please give this kid a daddy. Please don't hold back."

"We're in this with you, Steve." Clint said firmly. "Whatever you decide to do, we'll be behind you, one hundred percent."

"Yeah, I mean, I'm not exactly great with kids, but that one…didn't seem all that bad." Tony added. "You said she's smart?"

"Extremely." Steve replied. "She apparently reads on a fifth grade level and uses all these big words I never even knew _existed_ when I was her age. She hates math, though."

Tony waved that off. "That just means she's had terrible teachers. Let her be with Uncle Tony for the day…"

"I'm not so sure how I feel about that, Stark."

"I'd be there." Bruce reassured. "If…"

Steve sighed. "Yeah…if. I've got a lot to think about."

"Can we have team dinner tonight?" Clint asked suddenly. Everyone else stared. Steve was usually the one to suggest that. "I mean, we're all already here, and it seems stupid to just wander off our separate ways…"

"Okay, who's up for Italian?" Tony asked. Everyone more or less concurred. While he dialed up the number for his favorite Italian place (which only did carryout for a select few), Steve slumped down at the table. A smiling picture of Christy was still displayed on his phone.

_Is this what you need, kid? This craziness? Would this be healthy? Would it all work out?_

Christy's lips didn't magically move and give him the answer. But he somehow knew that it was a subject he would need to begin pursuing.

_I'm not your mom, kid. But maybe I could find you, instead. You already found me._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

By the next morning, Steve had about six different emails in his inbox, with links to various websites about adoption. They ranged from government websites explaining the formal process, to blogs written by adoptive parents, to an interesting article (courtesy of Bruce) about bonding with an older adoptive child.

Steve concluded that when it came to anything not involving missions, his teammates did not possess the slightest amount of subtlety.

Tony had casually mentioned the whole thing to Pepper, who was immediately on board. Clint had mentioned it to Coulson, who had passed word along to Fury. Within a week, it seemed most of the Avenger's inner circle knew that Captain America was (most likely) adopting a child, to everyone's great delight. Even Fury wasn't as unhappy about the idea as Steve had thought he might be.

It felt like everyone was pretty much fully convinced of his parenting abilities—except him.

"I never even knew my father, he died in the Great War before I was born." he protested to Clint one morning over breakfast. "My job description involves fighting rogue Nazis and weird aliens from outer space. What kind of life is that for a kid, not ever knowing if I'm gonna come home from a mission?"

"Steve." Clint said firmly. "You were frozen for seventy years and somehow survived. I don't think you're very easy to kill. What are you really worried about?"

Steve sighed, trying to decide whether to spill his soul or not. He decided he might as well. It w _as_ Clint, after all, and Clint had proven himself nothing but trustworthy.

"When I lost Bucky," he said quietly, "I thought I would die, it hurt so badly. The only thing keeping me from following him was my team...and Peggy. Even then...when I crashed the plane…I really wasn't expecting to wake up. When I did…I kinda wished I hadn't."

Clint nodded; his face carefully blank. He did reach out and grip Steve's forearm, though.

"I don't want anyone to have to go through what I did."

"Alright…I understand." Clint seemed to be measuring his words. "I understand, but Steve, listen to me. I was in foster care, before my brother and I ran off and joined the circus. And I know that if I'd've had a chance like Christy's, I would have jumped. She won't care about the danger; she just wants a family. You'll make a good dad. And you've got us, remember?"

Steve cracked a smile. "Is that supposed to be an encouragement?"

Clint rolled his eyes.

* * *

Christy had a problem. A very big problem.

Tally was getting adopted soon.

This was good news for Tally. (And Christy was happy for her friend. Really, she was.)

It was great news, except for the part where she was alone, again.

Mr. Steve could come during the day, and that made things better. But he couldn't stay at night.

Nights were the worst. Nights were when she saw her mom, whole and happy, only to wake up gasping to the realization that her mom was never coming back. Nights were when Tally would slip out of bed and come hold her hand, until she fell asleep again.

But now, Tally was leaving and there would be no one there to sit up with her in the night.

Christy lay on her bed and buried her face in her pillow. She didn't like it here. The sheets were scratchy. She was lonely. She wanted to go home.

But home was with mommy and mommy was gone. So where was home now?

She missed her mom so much, it actually, physically, hurt sometimes. She missed her voice and her hugs. She missed the way she felt when they would sit on the couch, just the two of them, and watch a movie.

And now, since Tally was getting a mommy _and_ a daddy soon, she'd begun to miss her own dad like never before. This was ridiculous, she knew, because she couldn't even _remember_ her dad.

She sometimes liked to pretend that Mr. Steve was her dad. But she would never tell anyone, not even Tally.

"Christy?" she heard Miss Emily call. "Christy, sweetheart, someone's here to see you."

She slowly got out of bed and tramped down the stairs to the lobby. She was glad that Mr. Steve was here, but not even he could fix this.

Steve knew something was wrong the minute he saw Christy appear. Normally, she would run up and tackle him in a huge hug, grinning and chattering a mile a minute. Now, she dragged her feet and slowly walked up to him.

"Hi." she whispered. Now Steve was even more concerned. He swung the girl up on his hip and tilted her head so he could look in her eyes. If her unhappiness was a knife, it would've been stabbing him.

"So why the long face, baby?" he asked quietly.

That did it. Christy buried her head in his shoulder and started whimpering. Steve looked at Miss Emily for assistance.

The caretaker sighed. "Her friend, Tally, is getting adopted. They've been pretty much inseparable since Christy came here."

Steve felt as though a jolt of electricity had run through his body. No wonder Christy was so upset. A brief flash of memory shot in his brain, as he remembered the day he'd lost Bucky forever.

_Swirling snow and ice; slippery tracks and that awful rocky cliff and Bucky screaming…_

He shook himself firmly. _This is not the time to lose yourself, Rogers._

"Hey, Christy? You want a story?" Her head nodded against his shoulder. "Alright, which one?" he asked, as they walked out into the courtyard.

Christy raised her head slightly. "The one where you saved your friend from the bad guys."

Steve frowned. Even the sanitized version of his first raid wasn't exactly child friendly. Surely it wasn't the best tale for right now, given Christy's fragile emotional state. "You sure?"

"U-huh. Cause you found him."

Oh _that_ was why. "Alright, the first HYDRA raid it is. So it all started when I got the news…"

Halfway through the story, Steve realized that Christy had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He finished the story anyway.

"So we made it back to base, and pretty soon I had a whole team of guys to fight with. We were called the Howling Commandos. And that's the story of how I found my best friend."

"That's a really good story."

Startled, Steve jerked up and noticed that someone else had come for Story Hour.

"Hey, Tally." he said. The girl nodded, and pointed at Christy.

"She hasn't been sleeping so good. She _doesn't_ sleep good. And it's gonna be worse when I leave." The girl frowned at her friend. "I don't want her to be lonely. And she's not lonely when she's with you." She looked pointedly at Steve.

Steve held up his left hand, the one that wasn't keeping Christy balanced on his shoulder. "Alright, alright, I get it, kid. 'When am I gonna adopt her?' You and my whole team. But do you know how dangerous my life is?"

Tally shrugged. "Aliens came out of the sky five months ago. Everybody's life is dangerous. I guess it's just about whether you wanna face the danger alone or together."

Something about that struck a chord with Steve. "You're a pretty smart kid, y'know that?"

"Yup!" Tally said, a smirking grin on her face. "My new momma says I've got more sense than a lotta grownups!"

"You like your new family?" Steve questioned. Tally nodded.

"I didn't think I'd ever get adopted. But they're great. I've got a momma and a daddy and a _big brother_! His name's Damian and he likes Iron Man!"

Steve snorted. "Dunno if I should tell Tony that one; his swelled head doesn't need to get any bigger."

"I can give Christy my new address and phone number. When you adopt her, can I come to Avengers Tower?"

"Oh, you're not subtle at all, are you?"

"Nope." Tally suddenly looked really serious. "She's my _best friend,_ Mr. Steve. I want her to have a family too."

Steve breathed out, deep and shuddering. "Okay, Tally. I'll get on it tonight, promise."

Tally shook her head. "No, you'll get on it now. C'mon." she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the door. "Miss Emily! Mr. Steve wants to adopt Christy!"

* * *

When Christy woke up later that afternoon, she was back in her bed. She tried to remember what had happened.

_Oh no! Mr. Steve was telling me a story and I fell_ _**asleep** _ _! What if he got upset?"_

As she jumped out of bed, she noticed a small piece of paper at the foot of the bed. She grabbed it and read:

_Christy,_

_Sorry our visit got cut short. Don't worry about falling asleep, I didn't mind at all. I have a question to ask you, and I will be back tomorrow to hear your answer:_

_Would you like to be my little girl?_

_Think about it; I'll be back tomorrow._

_Love,_

_Mr. Steve_

Christy stared and stared and s _tared_ at the paper, barely daring to believe what was on it.

_Would you like to be my little girl?_

"Yes." she whispered. Then, a little louder. "Yes." Then, with a loud shriek, Christy's answer rung through the center for all to hear:

"Yes, I want you to be my daddy!"

* * *

The next day, when Steve showed up at the center, all it took was a brilliant flash of white teeth and a bone-breaking hug to let him know the answer to his question.

If all went well, Christy Allen would soon become Christy Rogers.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Of course, adoption was not as simple as all that, though Steve dearly wished it could be. It required time, energy, and paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork. Thus began the period of what Tony dubbed "Steve Rogers vs. the System (Who Will Win?)".

It wasn't ridiculously hard for Steve to get certified to adopt. After Tally had dragged him to Miss Emily's desk that one day, he'd been able to pick up the necessary paperwork and fill it out that night at the Tower. He'd even gone to the required parenting classes and met with Christy's social worker. Now came time for the most nerve-wracking moment of all: the house visit. If he got through this intact, after a meeting with a 'board' assigned to Christy's case, she would finally be his!

Steve was running around like a crazy man, picking imaginary particles of dust off of any and every surface. Everything had to be perfect. He was glad that the social worker was only looking at _his_ floor of the tower and not everyone else's. They'd only recently convinced Clint that it wasn't a good idea to leave his arrows everywhere, not to mention Natasha and her knives. And he didn't even want to _imagine_ what Tony's floor looked like. Bruce's floor was probably the only one he would trust a social worker on, but what if Bruce accidentally…

"Captain." A voice said sternly. "Breathe."

Phil Coulson had come, along with Clint, for moral support. They had seemed the "safest" to have around for a visit of this sort, although Steve was fairly sure that Natasha was hiding in the vents somewhere. He'd heard a thump earlier.

Tony, of course, had the whole floor under surveillance. But that wasn't new; Tony was famously paranoid about security. Clint had even suggested that Steve might want to bring up the security measures, as a sign of how safe the Tower was for a child.

Clint placed a hand on his shoulder. "Steve. Buddy. You have got to calm down. You have nothing to worry about! You're Captain America! Who's gonna tell Captain America that his house isn't child safe? That's, like, un-American!"

"Yeah, but everybody has a different idea of what 'safe' means, so what if…?" Clint put his hand over Steve's mouth.

"'Ifs' are stupid." he said firmly. "Trust yourself and calm down."

The doorbell installed outside his floor chimed suddenly. Steve felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

Coulson's hand briefly gripped his shoulder. "Just remember, you punched Hitler in the jaw over 200 times."

That was enough to get Steve to loosen his muscles and breathe. "Thanks." he exhaled sharply. "Here goes nothing."

He opened the door. A smartly-dressed woman with an ID clasped to her suit collar stood in the doorway. Steve breathed out a small sigh of relief—he'd actually met this woman before. Her name was Olivia Darrow and she was the social worker in charge of Christy's general welfare.

"Mrs. Darrow, please come in." he said politely. "I hope it isn't a problem, but a couple of my friends are here for, ah, moral support."

The woman smiled, which toned down the sharp, penetrating gaze she was casting on his living area. "No problem at all, Captain. I just need to have a look around the place; make sure everything is up to code standard."

"Go ahead; he's got nothing to hide." Clint said, stretching out on the couch. Steve shot him a look of murderous terror, which Mrs. Darrow noticed. She sighed.

"Captain, I realize this is probably very stressful for you, but I do want to reassure that I actually am on your side. I want Christy to have a good home and a family just as much as you. But if I don't do my job, we have a problem."

Steve nodded. "Understood, ma'am. Where would you like to look first?"

She took out a notebook and pen. "Kitchen first."

She walked through the kitchen and living area, taking notes and testing the sturdiness of various shelving units.

"Are all your appliances up to date? And your smoke detector?" she asked. Steve blatantly ignored Clint's stifled chuckle as he answered in the affirmative.

After checking through the room that would soon be transformed into Christy's bedroom, the social worker ran over her checklist again for good measure.

"Alright…well, Christy's old enough to not need a booster seat or a child safety gate; there aren't any stairs I can see…"

"No, we generally use the elevator to get from floor to floor." Steve said.

"Indeed? And would Christy be going to any of these floors?" Mrs. Darrow asked.

"Uh…probably only the Common Floor…" Steve stuttered. _Oh dear God, please tell me she doesn't want to see…_

"Then I should probably take a look at this Common Floor. Lead the way, if you please."

Steve shot Clint and Coulson a look that read 'help me!' Coulson gave him a reassuring nod, but Clint….

Clint was already gone.

_He probably took the vents down to the Common Floor…oh thank God._

When Steve had been on the Common Floor earlier that morning, it was a mess of dirty dishes, lab tools, knives, chemicals, and various other dangerous items.

But now, as he and Mrs. Darrow stepped out of the elevator, the floor was…rather normal.

She went through the living area and kitchen without much incident. The sparing gym gave her a bit of pause.

"She won't be allowed in here without one of us." Steve assured her. "And she definitely won't be allowed to touch _anything_ without first being shown how it works."

"So you intend to teach Christy how to use these…items." Mrs. Darrow gestured towards a rack of Natasha's knives.

"I intend to teach Christy to protect herself." Steve said carefully. "The world is a dangerous place and the last thing I want is my child getting hurt."

"Very true." She clicked her pen closed and folded up the notepad. "Thank you very much for your time, Captain Rogers. You should be hearing from me in the next day or so. I believe you already have your appointment with the board?"

Steve nodded. "It's in another two weeks." Another two nerve-wracking weeks.

"Well, if all goes well, there should be a new face in your home before Thanksgiving."

Thanksgiving? Steve had almost forgotten about that. If everything went as hoped, this was shaping up to be one of the best Thanksgivings of his life. "That would be wonderful."

Mrs. Darrow bid him good-bye and exited through the door of the Common Floor. Steve breathed out a major sigh of relief and collapsed on the couch.

"Not so bad?" That was Coulson.

"Not so bad. Did you…?"

Coulson chuckled. "That was Clint, and probably Natasha. Who should be coming out right about…?"

"Now!" Clint stated dramatically, walking out of one of the back rooms. Natasha was behind him. He looked around the room and whistled. "We did pretty good."

"Pretty good? I could kiss you!" Steve cried.

Clint grimaced. "Please don't." Natasha socked him in the arm. "Ow!"

"No, but seriously, thank you." Steve added. "I couldn't have done it without you guys."

Natasha shrugged. "We co-opted a couple of Tony's cleaning bots; as well as the man himself. And Bruce, of course. We were down here cleaning while you all were on your floor."

Steve just shook his head. "Thank you, thank you, thank you…" Natasha looked stern.

"Rogers, quit it; we want this adoption to go through as much as you do! I think…" she trailed off. "It might be good having a kid around here."

"Maybe it will finally make you guys open up and _heal_." Coulson muttered. The other three stared at him. "Oh please; even if we exclude the Norse god from another realm, you people have had enough traumatic experiences to keep half the psychiatrists of New York employed. Yet none of you _talk_!"

It was very telling that none of them tried to protest; they all just looked sullen and refused to comment. Coulson smirked.

"She should be very good for all of you. Children have a way of making adults see sense and face things."

"She's had enough trauma; she doesn't need to be involved in our problems!" Steve protested.

"And so that's your plan?" Coulson argued mildly. "To hide everything from her? To lie and tell her you're _fine_? Captain, if I may say so, that's kind of a terrible idea."

Steve frowned. "And so what; are you also a shrink as well as an agent?"

"Oh no, I just deal with people like those two" he pointed at Clint and Natasha, "on a regular basis, so I've done my research."

"She already knows I'm not _fine_." Steve muttered.

"Nobody is truly fine." Clint said quietly. "Everybody's got issues. But Phil's right; you gotta be up front with her. Tell her when you're hurting, just like you do with me or Tasha. It might help. You don't have to give her all the gory details, just tell the truth. She's smart; she'll get it."

Steve glanced at Natasha. He could tell that she was thinking along the same lines as him—to leave Christy out of their own personal nightmares as much as possible. Yet he could also see sense in what Coulson and Clint were saying.

"Besides, when I was a kid, there was nothing more frustrating than not understanding why adults were acting angry or sad or whatever." Clint added. "I always got the 'you'll understand when you're older' bit. Blech."

"But how much is too much?" Steve asked.

Coulson grinned. "Something I heard once that may need to become your philosophy: 'Everything I tell you will always be true, but it may not be complete.'"

Steve let the words pound into his brain. He could do that.

He just might be able to pull off this whole 'dad' thing after all.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Mrs. Darrow called back before two days had passed, with the news that Steve's "house" was up to code. Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

It was now less than two weeks before Steve's meeting with the board, the meeting which would decide if he was a suitable guardian for Christy and make the adoption legal. In the meantime, he was distracting himself from thinking about that by getting his floor ready for her arrival.

Currently, he was in the process of hunting down Pepper Potts, who he eventually found seated on the Common Floor couch, typing furiously on her laptop.

"Uh…Miss Potts?"

She looked up. "Steve, hi! And I've told you, call me Pepper. Was there something you needed help with?"

"Actually…" Steve glanced down at the floor. "I'm sure Tony's told you that I'm adopting…"

"Yes, he did! I think it's wonderful. Oh, but sorry, I interrupted; go on."

"Well, I'm trying to get Christy's room ready, which means I need to go shopping. But I don't really…" He took a deep breath. "I didn't really have much money, growing up. But apparently, all my back pay from the past seventy years has been accumulating in an account, not to mention that I'm now on SHIELD's payroll. So now I have more money than I could ever spend on myself. I…I want Christy to have everything I didn't as a kid, but I also don't want to go crazy and overwhelm her with stuff. Hence, why I'm asking you for advice and not, say, Tony."

Pepper smiled. "I completely understand. So I take it you're asking me to accompany you on a shopping trip?"

Steve nodded. "I would've asked Natasha or Clint, but Natasha's on a mission and Clint's…somewhere. He said he's on leave, but I don't know where he'd go. Anyway, you seemed to be the most… _sensible_ choice."

"Bruce might lose it and Tony gives terrible advice when it comes to spending money." Pepper summed up.

"Exactly."

"Well," Pepper closed her laptop and stood up. "I think we should probably measure whichever room she's going to have, to make sure furniture fits."

"Oh, I've done that already." Steve held up a sheet of paper with numbers written on it.

"Great, that's one less thing. But could I see the room, anyway, just to have a mental picture?"

"Of course." Steve said. The two walked over to the elevator and got in.

"Jarvis, take us to Captain Rogers' floor, please." Pepper said.

"Certainly, Miss Potts." came the AI's cool tone.

As the elevator whirred up to Steve's floor, Pepper added, "You know, I don't really think I've seen any pictures of Christy yet."

"Really?" And faster than you could say 'boo,' Steve had whipped out his phone and pulled up his album of photos; the very image of a proud father.

"I took this one the other day, when I went to see her. I had brought my laptop and she was listening to a song on YouTube...and also sort of explaining how to use the internet." The image showed Christy with shut eyes and open mouth, presumably singing.

"Oh, Steve that's adorable. She looks so much like you!"

Steve rolled his eyes, though his smile was still intact. "Oh believe me, I've heard. Tony's asked once or twice if I was sure scientists hadn't experimented with my DNA samples in the past seventy years."

Pepper shook her head. "I apologize. And I apologize in advance, for anything else he'll say."

"Don't worry; I realize we look pretty similar. I'm just glad she has none of the health issues I did pre-serum."

The elevator dinged open and they stepped out onto the floor. Steve led Pepper back to the room he'd picked out for Christy. It was a fairly large bedroom with a window overlooking the street outside. The only furniture currently in the room was a small folding table placed haphazardly against the wall, and a queen-sized bed frame. The room was connected to a small bathroom, much like the other two rooms on his floor.

"I still don't get why these floors have so much _space_." he griped. "I lived in an apartment maybe half the size of this floor _with_ Bucky."

"It is kind of extravagant." Pepper said sympathetically. "But it does have its uses. Who knows who might end up in the Tower?"

"Yeah, well…" Steve gestured at the room. "Here it is. I know it's kinda pathetic; I haven't even painted it yet!"

Pepper looked curious at this. "What color are you going to paint it?"

Steve grabbed some paint swatches off the table. "See, she likes blue, green, purple, red, and gold. They had these gold…flecks, they called them; that you can apparently mix into the paint, to make the walls shiny. So I figured I'd do one wall each color, with gold mixed in."

"That should be interesting." Pepper said. "And I'll bet she's excited about having a room painted _all_ of her favorite colors."

Steve smiled conspiratorially. "She actually doesn't know. It's sort of a surprise."

"Aww, that's sweet. Well, we'd better get moving if you want to get most of her things today. Do you have a list?"

"Yes, well…I know the basics, but I was wondering if you could help me with it?"

"Oh, of course!" As they exited the floor and made their way to the outside of the tower, Pepper shot a quick text off.

_Off with Steve to buy Christy-stuff. Paint swatches in the far bedroom. One color per wall; gold flecks mixed in. Have fun._

* * *

Up in the lab, Tony grabbed his beeping phone. He read the message and grinned.

"Hey, Bruce, c'mon!" he called. The doctor looked up, slightly startled. "Pepper and Cap just left to buy stuff for the kid; they'll probably be out all day. Now's our chance—we're gonna paint her room."

Bruce's confusion morphed to a smile. Steve had mentioned the amount of things he had to get done before Christy's arrival, yet refused to admit that he needed any help. The man was nothing if not stubborn. But with Steve gone for the day, this was the perfect chance to help out.

There was one small thing, though. "Tony, do you know anything about painting?"

The billionaire shrugged. "Not really, but hey, I'm a genius, remember, and so are you. We'll figure it out."

As though in response to the panic rising in his gut, Jarvis responded, "Don't worry, Dr. Banner, I'll look up any information on home improvement that is required to complete this project satisfactorily."

"See, Bruce, even Jarvis is okay with it!"

Bruce rolled his eyes and silently prayed that Steve wouldn't be too angry if they utterly screwed things up.

* * *

They took one of Tony's cars (though not the limo, thankfully) and end up at a store called Home Goods.

"Okay, so you've got the list of furniture, right?" Pepper asked.

Steve nodded. "Desk, chair, toy box, bookcase, window blinds, sheets, comforter, pillows." They had decided to keep things fairly simple in terms of room furnishings. He could always purchase more later, once Christy was settled in.

They purchased the furniture items without too much incident, stopping at another store to purchase a mattress. Pepper arranged for most of everything to be delivered to the Tower.

Next came something slightly more challenging: clothes. Quantity wasn't an issue; Miss Emily had given him a list sent out to foster families that detailed the minimum amount of clothes children usually required. Of course, he planned on going above in some areas.

Some items were obvious, like underwear. Others were not so obvious; dresses, for instance.

"Every time I see her, she's wearing jeans and a t-shirt, or maybe a slightly nicer shirt." Steve explained. "She's not much for dresses."

"I know." Pepper said. "But she needs at least three nice dresses—you never know, she might go to one of Tony's parties. Or church." she added, taking in Steve's horrified expression at the thought of Christy at a Tony Stark party.

"Fine, you're right." Steve conceded. He had gotten Christy to tell him which size clothes and shoes she wore, but finding things was still a challenge. He and Pepper basically grabbed anything close, with the knowledge that they could return anything that didn't fit.

They ended up buying five pairs of jeans, three pairs of shorts (it was fall, and she would probably grow before spring), five t-shirts (Pepper insisted on purchasing one with a Captain America shield on it), five nicer blouses, three dresses, three sets of pajamas, four pairs of shoes, and a pack of socks and underwear each.

After that, they went to FAO Schwarz and went slightly wild. Steve knew that Christy was not the world's biggest fan of pink, but she was also not unopposed to dolls and cuddly things. Therefore, they ended up with a nice mix of, among other things, two baby dolls and doll clothing, several stuffed animals (mostly dogs, Christy's favorite), a set of farm animals, several Lego sets, a miniature Thor's hammer, a mini Iron Man mechanical glove, and, yes, Avengers action figures.

Steve was incredibly thankful for Pepper's ability to manage in stores. Even after half a year of living in the 21st century, the sheer amount of _stuff_ in any given store was enough to send him into a mild shock.

She was also kind enough not to let him look at the price of everything at the checkout counter. But somehow, giant inflation amount or not, spending money didn't feel wasteful, like it did when he bought personal items. He felt good, _proud_ , that he was able to give Christy so many nice things.

It was a new feeling, the ability to provide for someone. Because of his frequent and ever-present health issues, Bucky had usually been the one providing for the both of them, and before that, his mother had worked hard to ensure they lived decently. Steve had spent much of his early life wishing he could help out and feeling terrible that he couldn't.

Being able to provide was definitely a feeling he could get used to.

* * *

When they got back to the Tower, Steve had a feeling something was up. Pepper was checking her phone fairly frequently, though she had assured him that her schedule was clear for the day.

His suspicions were confirmed when they reached his floor and heard Jarvis say, "No, Sir, I don't think it would be advisable for you to use a sprayer to put paint on the walls."

The answer to this statement came from Christy's room. Steve sprinted to it, only to find a rather welcome surprise.

Tony and Bruce, along with Dummy, You, and a couple other robots were nearly finished painting Christy's room.

Even more shocking, it actually looked _good_.

"Hey, Cap." Tony said, moving what looked like a modified paint roller up the wall. "Like it?"

"Like it?" Steve repeated, dropping the bags he was carrying. "It's…it's…"

"Oh, Tony, Bruce, it looks great!" Pepper cried, peering into the room. "I knew you boys could pull it off."

Steve looked at her. "You _knew_?"

"You've been so stubborn about getting everything done yourself, but we wanted to help out." Bruce said. "So Pepper texted Tony when you two left and, well…" he gestured around the room with his free hand.

"It looks wonderful." Steve said quietly. "Thanks, guys."

"No problem." Bruce said sincerely. Tony nodded.

"Yeah, anything for the kid. Sooo…wanna help? We'll be finished in no time if you two pitch in."

Steve shrugged. "I'm up for it. I was gonna do it all myself anyway."

"Yeah, I don't mind..." Pepper started. Just then, her phone rang. "Oh, that's the furniture. I should go deal with that. Have fun, boys!"

* * *

The room was finished within an hour with Steve helping. After the paint dried, they managed to get all the furniture moved in as well. After an incredibly long day, no one felt like cooking, so they ordered pizza and crashed in front of the TV on Steve's floor.

"Today was good." Steve said, taking a bite of pizza.

"I'll say." Tony replied. "I single-handedly painted a room, and it looks fabulous."

Pepper rolled her eyes. "If by 'single-handedly,' you mean with the help of Bruce, Jarvis, Dummy, You, and various other technology, then yes, you did." she said.

"It was kinda fun." Bruce added. "It was nice improving a wall, as opposed to destroying one."

"It was nice being able to buy stuff and not worry about the cost." Steve echoed.

"So how many days till your meeting, Steve?" Pepper asked.

Steve did a mental headcount, and then gulped. "Nine days."

Bruce clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine. It'll be great."

Nine more days. Nine more days before all their lives changed forever.

Hopefully, and most probably, for the better.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Three nights before his meeting with the board, Steve called an 'emergency' team meeting.

"So, I suppose you're wondering why I've called you all here…" he began.

Tony snorted. "Not really. And have you been watching Sherlock Holmes?"

"Shut up, Tony. Anyway, I wanted to discuss…"

"Did you really just say 'shut up'?"

Natasha, newly returned from Eastern Europe, gave Tony one of her most scathing glares.

"Never mind." the billionaire said, holding up his hands in surrender.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Thanks Romanoff. _Anyway_ , I called a meeting because I wanted to talk about something important. You all know that in about three days, life here is gonna change. There's gonna be a kid on the premises, _my_ kid. That means some things are gonna have to be done differently."

"Like 'no weapons left lying around the Common Floor.'" Clint suggested.

"Exactly! Look, Christy's not stupid, but she's also just a kid. I just wanna have some ground rules established for us as the _responsible_ _adults_."

"Tony's a responsible adult?" Natasha muttered.

Steve ignored the joke. "Number one: no weapons, chemicals, or dangerous tools left on the Common Floor unattended. Or, at the very least, left with a note that says something like 'don't touch.' Got it?"

Everybody nodded.

"Great. Number two: don't get drunk on the Common Floor or on my floor. And keep any alcohol out of reach for a kid."

"Oh, easy for you to say, you don't get drunk!" Tony cried.

"Stark, do you really want a seven-year-old seeing you drunk?" Clint retorted. "Think about it."

Tony sighed in exasperation. "Fine. But I'm putting a bar in the lab."

Now it was Bruce who looked exasperated.

"Number three: watch your language."

Clint and Bruce nodded slowly. Natasha looked mildly annoyed, but also nodded. Tony, however, nearly lost it.

"Language! C'mon Cap, it's my tower!"

"And you can cuss all you like on your floor." Steve countered. "But _not_ around my kid."

There was a long pause. Tony finally caved.

"Fine, fine, turn my tower into Disney World why don't ya?" he muttered.

This momentarily threw Steve for a loop. "There's a Disney _World_?"

"It's a giant amusement park in Florida, and there's another one in California called Disneyland." Bruce explained. "Walt Disney started them, back in the fifties."

Steve just shook his head. "Anyway. Number four: always wear clothes on the Common Floor…actually, just always have clothes on. Please."

Bruce raised his hand timidly. "What if I…"

"The Hulk's an exception…but don't you have underwear that still fits once you transform back?"

Bruce nodded.

"Then that should be okay." he sighed. "That's all I could think up off the top of my head…"

"What about discipline?" Clint asked. "Like, if we catch her doing something dangerous, or something she knows not to do? Are we allowed to discipline her?"

"Oh. Uh…yeah I suppose so. Just make sure I know about it."

"What kind of discipline?" Bruce asked, looking a tad edgy. His own father hadn't hesitated to act abusive under the guise of "discipline." He knew that Steve was an entirely different person than his father, but the suspicion still lingered.

Steve frowned, thinking. "If she's doing something dangerous, stop her and tell her why it's dangerous. Make sure she understands. If she does something I've told her not to…I don't know. I'll have to ask her what her mom did."

Clint nodded. "Sounds fair. Maybe no TV or no internet if she does something against the rules."

"That could work…I think." Steve ran a hand through his hair.

"Hey!" Natasha said, giving his shoulders a small shake. "It's gonna be fine! Sure, it's gonna be trial and error, but it's gonna be fine. You're not gonna get it all perfect—but nobody does. Just do your best."

Steve looked around at his team. All of them, even Tony, looked encouraging. They really were behind him in this.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. These guys weren't the Commandos, weren't Bucky…but they _were_ his team. And they were a pretty good one, all things considered.

"Thanks guys."

* * *

Today was the day. D-day, Clint was calling it, smirking at Steve. Steve privately thought that he was as nervous as if it was the _actual_ D-day.

He had tried to go by himself to the board meeting, but everyone had simply looked at him and laughed when he suggested it.

"Not a chance, Cap." Clint had said, speaking for everybody. "We're coming with you."

Now, seated in a small office room at the center, Steve was immensely grateful for their presence. They all sat in the row of chairs behind him, warm and solid and impenetrable.

Miss Emily sat next to him, as well as Mrs. Darrow, both of whom were deciding members in this particular case. Others present included the head of child services; an extremely stern-looking man, as well as a child psychologist, and a few other people he couldn't place.

Steve spread his palms flat to hide the shaking. Miss Emily gave him a comforting smile.

"Don't worry." she whispered. "Just tell the truth and trust yourself. You have nothing to hide."

The director had Christy's file pulled up on a laptop screen before him. Suddenly, without any warning, he began.

"Mr. Rogers?" he queried sharply.

Steve jerked to attention and took a breath. It was now or never. "Yes, sir?"

"You are here to request that Christy Allen be placed in your home?"

"Yes, sir."

"What makes you a suitable parent for Christy?" he asked bluntly.

For a moment, one brief and desperate moment, Steve wanted to shout, _"Nothing! I have no idea what I'm doing! I don't even belong in this century!"_

But then he remembered Christy's face—her mile-long smile, her eyes that shone like blue stars, the way her hair parted on the side. He remembered her hugs, her voice, remembered how she had given him the desire to live, _really_ live, in this strange new world.

And he opened his mouth.

"I know I would be a good parent for Christy, because I know what it feels like to be alone. I've lost people close to me and I understand all the crazy emotions that come with grief. But I also understand the need to eventually pick yourself up and move on. Christy's an incredibly smart, loving little girl, but she's been hurt badly. She needs a place to heal. And I would like to give her that place. She will be safe with me; safe to grow and learn and explore, the way a child should."

He breathed out, fast and quick, slightly exhausted from such a speech. He could feel a hand on his back; probably Natasha.

"What are you prepared to do for Christy's education?" the man continued, as if Steve hadn't just spilled his soul.

"Well, we've talked about it. She'd like to attend the public school nearest to the—my home. Her best friend also attends there. But I'm aware of Christy's advanced intelligence, so I will make sure she gets involved in whatever classes or programs needed so that she is challenged."

The psychologist leaned in now. "You said that you are prepared to give her room to…heal, as you put it. What would that look like?"

Steve sighed. "I've been doing research on trauma victims, especially children, and taking note of the symptoms. If Christy starts exhibiting behavior that is troubling or in need of therapy, then of course I will take her to a professional. But aside from that…I think it's important that she know I am here to listen, that she has someone to cry with and explain what's happening in her mind and heart."

The woman nodded. "Thank you."

"Any more questions?" the director asked. No one else moved. "Very well. Mr. Rogers, thank you for your time. You are free to go; someone will contact you in the next 24 hours to confirm our decision."

_"_ _That's it?!"_ Steve wanted to scream. Instead, he nodded, said, "Thank you very much, ma'am," and left the room. The remaining Avengers followed him like a pack of bodyguards.

"You were great." Clint said firmly, as soon as they were out of the room.

"Yeah, you said everything right and it was all very…heartfelt." Bruce echoed.

"If they don't say yes, I am personally coming down here and knocking some sense into those people." Tony muttered. The look on Natasha's face indicated that she would be joining him if such a thing occurred.

"Captain Rogers!" Miss Emily called out, exiting the room. "Just wanted to say, I think you made a pretty good impression on the board. Keep your phone with you and try not to collapse in the next 24 hours. I'm rooting for you."

Steve smiled. "Thanks. Would it be possible for me to see Christy today?"

The woman sighed. "They've actually gone on a field trip today, to the Museum of Natural History, otherwise I would say yes."

Steve nodded, looking mildly crushed. "Well, I'll have her for keeps soon."

Clint nodded, placing a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Soon. C'mon, let's go home and distract you with the Classic Movie channel."

As they left, Steve protested that he didn't need them to distract him, that he was perfectly capable on his own. No one bought it. (He was secretly relieved).

This was going to be a long 24 hours.

* * *

It was indeed a very long day. His team tried every method of distraction possible, from movies to sparing. Tony even tried getting him drunk, which went about as well as Howard's attempts had seventy-odd years prior.

Steve checked his cell phone constantly, just in case he missed a call, until Tony called him a 'hyperactive teenager waiting for a call from his crush.'

This ended in a pillow fight that lasted the better part of an hour.

Finally, _finally_ , at 5:53 p.m., when Steve had just about given up hope, his cell phone rang.

"Hello?" he answered shakily. Everyone waited with baited breath.

"Really? It's approved? I can pick her up tomorrow?" Steve cried. "I'll come get her tomorrow at noon! Thank you!" he hung up, the biggest smile crowding his face.

"I got her."

Everyone immediately erupted in loud cheers.

"I told you! I told you!" Clint howled, pounding him on the back. Natasha and Bruce offered less exuberant, but no less sincere congratulations. Tony, of course, headed straight for the bar.

"This calls for celebration! C'mon, drinks are on me!"

"They're always on you, Stark!" Steve joked. But they all sidled up to the bar for their cocktail of choice.

It was real. He was actually adopting Christy. For the first time in nearly half a year, things appeared to be working out for Steve Rogers.

* * *

Christy was jumping around like a whirlwind as Miss Emily helped her pack her things that afternoon. She was going home tomorrow, with her new dad! She couldn't even sit still, she was that excited.

Miss Emily had finally sent her down to the playroom, to get rid of all her energy. As she entered the room, she noticed a girl sitting quietly by herself. The girl had only arrived recently and was still adjusting.

Christy frowned, remembering her first weeks at the center; how lonely and out-of-place she'd felt.

She walked over to the girl. "Hi, my name's Christy, what's yours?"

The girl looked up shyly. "My name's Abby." Her face suddenly turned sad. "Aren't you getting adopted tomorrow?"

Christy nodded. "Yeah, I am. But that doesn't mean we can't play together today. Do you wanna color?"

Abby nodded, picking up the Avengers coloring book. "I like Black Widow." she said, selecting a picture of Natasha.

"Yeah, she's awesome! But I like Captain America best. He's…" Christy stopped, deciding it wouldn't be best to announce that she was getting adopted by an Avenger. It might sound like bragging. "He's the best. He grew up in Brooklyn, just like me!"

As the two girls sat and colored, Christy felt something warm and happy bubble up inside her. Mr. Steve—no, _Daddy_ —had warned her that sometimes he and the other Avengers could get very upset, if their bad memories were too much. But if she could make Abby smile just by sitting with her, maybe, just maybe, she could help her new family too.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Steve had stayed up well past midnight, hoping he could force his body to sleep late and not have so much time waiting around in the morning.

His body refused to be fooled, even with no alarm. He woke up shortly after seven to a pounding heart and shot nerves. Going back to sleep was quickly deemed impossible.

The morning crawled by at a snail's pace but _finally_ , it was 11:15 a.m., time to leave to pick up Christy.

Instead of taking his motorcycle like normal, he took one of the cars that Tony had designated as "borrowable." As he drove, he let himself get lost in daydreams—Christy and him watching a movie, Christy throwing a baseball into his glove (that was something else he needed to get), Christy getting picked up from school by him…her _dad_.

He barely managed to park the car in front of the center and practically sprinted inside.

Christy was sitting in the hallway beside Miss Emily's desk. As soon as he walked in, she jumped up and crashed into him.

"Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad, DAD!" she cried. She sounded like a broken record, but Steve couldn't care less—this was the first time she'd ever called him "dad" to his face.

"Hey, kiddo." he whispered, wrapping her up in a huge hug. "Ready to go?"

Christy nodded furiously. "Uh-huh!"

"Good." he turned to Miss Emily. "Thank you, so much. You've been a huge help…" the woman waved him off.

"Please, it was clear from the beginning that you two had some sort of bond. I'm just glad everything ended so happily."

_Happily…for now_ … Steve couldn't stop from thinking. He pushed the dark thought out of his mind. Absolutely nothing was going to spoil this day.

"So…is there anything else I need to do?" he asked.

Miss Emily pointed to a small stack of papers on her desk. "I just need you to sign a few forms, and she's all yours!"

Steve grabbed a pen off the desk and signed his way through each form. Miss Emily quickly made copies on a portable copier and gave him one of every form, as well as a flash drive.

"This has all of her information on it; medical history, school records, birth certificate, _everything_."

Steve nodded, accepting the items. "I can't believe this is actually happening." he said quietly.

Christy grabbed his hand. "I can! Can we go home now?"

The two adults chuckled. Steve nodded. "Home sounds great."

"Bye Christy." Miss Emily said, giving the girl a hug. "Be good for your new daddy, alright? He's very happy to have you."

Christy nodded solemnly. "I promise. Bye, Miss Emily."

Steve hefted Christy's small duffel onto his shoulder, and the two of them walked out to the car together. Christy didn't let go of his hand until she had to sit down and get buckled. He didn't even attempt to pull away.

* * *

"Wow." Christy whispered as they pulled up to Avengers Tower. "It's so big! You actually live here?"

Steve grinned. "Yup. And now, you do too." He drove through a side opening on the right side of the Tower, down to an underground garage.

Christy's eyes got even bigger. "Is this for anybody to park?"

"Nope, pretty sure it's just for Stark Industries employees and Tony's personal collection of cars. Well, the ones he lets us borrow, at least."

"Wow." Christy seemed incapable of movement, so Steve parked, got her duffel out of the trunk, and opened her door.

"Ready to go, baby? This is just the beginning."

Christy looked a little nervous. "It's big. Really big."

"Yes, it is. But you know who else is big?" he asked, un-clicking her seat belt.

"Who?" she asked back.

He scooped her up against his chest and held her fast with his right arm. "Me. And you're with me. So I think, between the two of us, there's not much we can't handle."

They got in the elevator. It was a special one, equipped with push buttons as opposed to having Jarvis transport people to a floor, because the garage was used by people outside of Tony's 'group.' So Steve pushed the button for his floor number and they whizzed up.

Just before the door clicked open, Steve whispered, "Close your eyes."

Christy did. The door opened. Steve stepped onto his floor and set her down.

"Welcome home, Christy. You can open now."

The girl's eyes flew open and she gasped, looking around. She immediately ran to the large window at the other end of the living room area and gazed out at the city.

"It's perfect!" she cried happily.

"You wanna see your room?" Steve asked.

"Yes, please!" Christy said, grabbing her bag off the floor and following him down the tiny hallway.

Steve threw open the door to the finished bedroom. Christy stared in awe.

The room, freshly painted and neatly arranged, looked like paradise to a girl who had spent close to five months in a dorm room with nine other people

"For me?" she said. "All for me?"

"All for you, for as long as we live here." Steve promised. "And I will be here with you."

"Forever?" Christy asked. Steve sucked in his breath. It was only day one, and already they were addressing his biggest fear.

"C'mere." He sat down on the bed. Christy joined him. "I can't…I can't promise forever, Christy. I wish I could. But I don't know what's gonna happen tomorrow. I don't know who I'm gonna have to fight. But I can promise that as much as it depends on me, I will always come back to you. I will always find you. Do you understand?"

Christy nodded. "'Cause you're a soldier and you fight bad guys. But you'll always come back to me."

"I can't promise forever…" Steve said quietly. "But I can promise…'till the end of the line."

"What's that mean?"

"It means that I won't give up on you, that I will take care of you and that wherever you are…I will always find you." His voice choked a little, remembering the last person he'd promised this to, who had promised this to _him_.

"Don't cry, Daddy." Christy said, hugging his arm. "It's okay, that's a good promise. Best promise ever!"

Steve closed his eyes and felt tears spill out. "Glad you approve."

* * *

Christy had eaten lunch before he picked her up, so Steve quickly wolfed down a sandwich while she unpacked her stuff.

They spent the early afternoon reading and talking and watching TV, until about four-thirty.

All the other Avengers, Pepper, Coulson, Maria Hill, and possibly even Fury were coming to his floor for dinner and to meet Christy. Steve had arranged for them to all come one by one (or in small groups) to avoid overwhelming Christy with too many new people at once.

When he explained this to Christy, the girl immediately ran off to her room. When she emerged ten minutes later, she was wearing one of her new dresses.

"Do you think they'll like me?" she asked, as Steve straightened up the couch cushions.

He snorted. "Of course. They'll love you. Besides, you're my kid now. You're staying for keeps, no matter what anyone thinks."

The doorbell rang. Steve went to answer it, Christy hovering like a shadow behind him.

It was Natasha, carrying a large pot of soup and a wrapped present. Steve grabbed the pot from her as they said hello, and set it down on the table. Natasha turned to look at Christy.

"Hello. You must be Christy." she said. "I'm Natasha."

Christy, to her credit, managed _not_ to scream, 'you're the Black Widow!' Her eyes were still very huge in her face.

"It's okay, baby." Steve said. "She only bites bad guys."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Smooth, Rogers." She focused back to Christy. "I brought you a present."

"Thank you." Christy said as she took it from Natasha. She tore open the wrapping to find a beautiful handmade cloth doll.

"I love it!" she cried, twirling around, hugging the doll against her. Steve raised an eyebrow at Natasha, who muttered something about an old woman that ran a Russian tea house in Manhattan and sold things on the side.

Christy's eyes were shining and most of her shyness had evaporated. "Thank you…" she trailed off, frowning slightly. "Can…can I call you Aunt Tasha?"

Natasha froze. She could see Steve doing it too, out of the corner of her eye. Clint was the only one who ever called her Tasha. Most people close enough to her to use a nickname stuck with Nat. 'Tasha' was personal. And 'Aunt'…

Who wanted to be kin to the Black Widow, even if it was just fictive kin?

Apparently the little girl with Steve's blue eyes and determined face did.

Natasha felt something warm constrict in her chest and she smiled. This, _this_ , was her revenge on the Red Room and all those who had tried to make her a weapon.

She would be Aunt Tasha.

"Sure, kid." she said. "I'm glad you like your present."

"Come see my room!" Christy said, pulling her arm. Natasha laughed and followed her.

Steve breathed a sigh of relief and grinned. He'd had a feeling Natasha and Christy would get along.

_One down, eight to go…seven tonight._

The doorbell rang again. This time it was Clint. Like Natasha, he also came bearing food and a present.

"Really, Barton? Apple pie and ice cream? I'm surprised you didn't just bring a flag and really seal the deal."

Clint shrugged and smirked. "Hey, if the kid's gonna be a Rogers, she needs to know what she's getting into!"

Natasha and Christy came out of the bedroom.

"Hey, kid, I'm your Uncle Clint. Nice to meet you, finally."

Christy didn't freak out as much as with Natasha. It helped that Clint was more of a 'low profile' Avenger. She smiled and gave the man a hug.

"Nice to meet you, Uncle Clint."

"Brought you something." He held out a gift bag. "Go ahead; open it."

Christy pulled out newspaper stuffing and unearthed a glove and a baseball. The glove was brown leather with gold accents, but the ball…the ball was a deep, dark blue.

Clint shrugged at Steve's questioning glance. "I know a guy. And you said she liked baseball."

"Thank you!" Christy said, grabbing Clint for another hug.

"Thanks, Clint." Steve echoed. "And thanks, Natasha."

"Well, we had to give our gifts before Stark showed up and outclassed us all." Natasha said.

Steve rolled his eyes. "I told him no more than five hundred dollars."

The doorbell rang again. Clint grinned. "Well, well. Speak of the devil and he shall appear."

"It could be Bruce." Steve said.

It turned out they were both right. It was Bruce, Tony _and_ Pepper. Christy started getting nervous again and edged over to Steve.

He patted her shoulder. "It's okay. You're doing really well." She beamed at the compliment.

"So where's the kid?" Tony asked in his typically blunt way.

"Tony!" Pepper cried, exasperated.

Bruce, meanwhile, set his food item on the table and made his way over to Steve and Christy. He crouched down in front of the girl.

"Hey, sweetheart." he said quietly, almost shyly.

Christy smiled, her confidence coming back in the face of someone almost as nervous as her. "Hi, Uncle Bruce."

Startled, Bruce almost flinched back. "You already know who I am?"

"'Course. Dad brought pictures." She studied Bruce's face for a moment, and then said. "You don't have to be scared."

"I…I don't wanna hurt you." Bruce whispered.

Christy shrugged. "Everybody usually likes me. I don't see why the Hulk would be any different. My mom said that people usually act better when people are nice to them, anyway, so that's what I'd do if you transformed. Be nice to the Hulk. And if that didn't work, I'd run."

Then, she hugged him. Bruce pretty much lost whatever train of thought he'd had at this point. In thirty seconds, this kid had disarmed his worst fear with simple, innocent logic.

Tony cleared his throat. Christy let go of Bruce and practically _flounced_ over to him and Pepper.

"Hello, Uncle Tony. Were you feeling ignored?" she asked; her voice only the _slightest_ bit sarcastic.

"Christy!" Steve cried, trying to contain his laughter. Everybody else just laughed.

Tony grinned. "Not bad for a pipsqueak."

Christy looked him up and down. "You're not so tall yourself."

"I am when I'm wearing the suit."

"But you're not wearing the suit."

"True." Tony stuck out his hand. "So, obviously, I am Tony Stark; genius, billionaire, pl…ah, and philanthropist." he amended, at Steve's withering glare. "You can call me Uncle Tony."

"I already did!" Christy said.

"Well, now you have my permission to do so. And this is Pepper Potts, smartest woman on planet earth. And I can only get away with that because Thor's not here to brag on his girlfriend."

Pepper blushed slightly. "Nice to meet you, Christy."

"Pepper's the one who helped me pick up all the stuff for your room." Steve added.

Christy smiled. "Thank you. Can I call you Aunt Pepper?"

"Sure, sweetheart! Oh, I'm so thrilled to finally meet you!"

"And Tony and Bruce painted your room." Steve added.

"And Jarvis, Dummy, and You." Tony said, slightly affronted.

"Thank you!" Christy said. "I really like the colors. Who're Jarvis, Dummy, and You?"

"Jarvis is an AI…artificial intelligence…really smart robot. He basically runs the place. Dummy and You are two of my other robots." Tony explained.

"You named a robot 'Dummy'?" Christy asked, frowning. "That's mean!"

"I was a kid! A stupid kid!"

Clint's phone suddenly trilled; he grabbed it and read the text. "It's Coulson. He said to start eating; he and Hill are running late. And Fury's still a loose cannon."

Steve nodded. "Sounds fine. This all looks great; thank you guys for coming."

"Sure, sure, not like we live here or anything." Tony said. Pepper jabbed him. "Ow! Uh, I mean, you're welcome."

Natasha patted Christy's shoulder. "Welcome to the craziness, kid."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Dinner was a complete mishmash of different foods; Bruce had made butter chicken curry with vegetables, Tony and Pepper had "made" (bought) Chinese takeout, and Natasha had made some kind of traditional Russian soup. There was just enough food for everybody, but not a complete overabundance.

"Good thing Thor's not here, or we'd be sunk." Clint said to Steve, who rolled his eyes.

"Why?" Christy asked. "And where _is_ Thor?"

"When I got the serum, _everything_ got enhanced— made bigger." Steve explained. "That includes my appetite. I eat more than most people and so does Thor."

"Oh, okay. So is Thor back…where he came from?"

Natasha nodded. "Yup, he's on Asgard. We don't know when he'll be back."

Christy looked a little upset at that (she was rather interested in meeting the thunder god), but nodded. "Okay."

They were about halfway through eating when the doorbell chimed once more. Clint stood up to get it.

In stepped Coulson and Hill. Hill was carrying a wrapped package under her arm and Coulson…was carrying a huge sheet cake.

"Sorry we're late." he said. "It seemed like every mom in the world was in the cake pick-up line."

Christy was staring at the cake. "Is that for me?" she whispered.

Steve nudged her. "People first, then cake." She nodded, but not before sneaking one last look at the cake. The frosting was red-white-and blue with a plastic Captain America figure on top.

"Christy, this is Phil Coulson and Maria Hill. They…sort of help out the Avengers; they work for SHIELD. Remember I told you about SHIELD?"

"Uh-huh. They're super spies, like James Bond, only cooler. And better."

Clint smirked at the mental image of Coulson ordering a "shaken, not stirred" martini.

Hill grinned. "We're so much cooler. Look." she took out a pair of sunglasses and slipped them on. "See?"

Christy grinned appreciatively. "Cool. Can I have a pair?"

"Christy…" Steve warned. But Hill merely held out the package, saying, "Why don't you open and find out?"

Christy ripped off the paper to find a pair of black, SHIELD-issue sunglasses and several laminated black-and-white photos of Captain America and his Howling Commandos, straight from the forties.

Her jaw dropped at the pictures. "Dad? Is this you?"

Steve peered at the pictures. "Coulson…where did you get these?"

The man shrugged. "SHIELD had a bunch in your file. I made duplicates to leave in place of these. I figured you both deserved the originals."

"Thanks…" Steve blinked back a rush of tears. It _was_ good to have some of the old pictures, but it also brought back too many memories to deal with tonight.

Christy frowned, sensing his change in mood. "I…I think I'll put these in my room, to keep them safe. Thanks, Uncle Phil; thanks Aunt Maria!"

As she dashed off, all the adults sat down at the table to finish eating.

"She's adorable, Cap!" Hill said. "She looks exactly like you!"

"But it's more than looks." Natasha added. "There's something else…the same willingness to give a chance…"

Bruce nodded. "Yeah. Know what she said she'd do if I transformed? _Make friends with the Hulk!_ I couldn't believe it!"

"She's like me minus two years of combat and one seventy-year sleep." Steve said. "All determination and high ideals."

"So, essentially, the same as you now." Tony interjected.

"And _innocence_." Steve added pointedly.

"Good." Coulson said softly. "I think the world could use another kid from Brooklyn too stubborn to back down from a fight. There's a lot of lost causes and not enough people to take them up."

By the time Christy came back and finished her dinner, everyone was more than ready to start on dessert. They all oohed and ahhed (and laughed) over Coulson's Captain America cake, which made Christy get out her plastic shield and start zooming around the living room area. Steve was starting to wonder if she'd had too much excitement for one night, when…

_Ding-dong!_

Coulson, Hill, Clint, and Natasha all looked at each other.

"Did he actually come?" Hill muttered. Coulson shrugged.

"Only one way to find out." He opened the door and, sure enough, there stood the director of SHIELD himself, Nick Fury.

"Okay, who invited the eye patch?" Tony asked.

"The good Captain was kind enough to extend an invitation, Stark." Fury replied, stepping into the apartment.

Christy tugged at Steve's shirtsleeve. "Daddy…" she whispered, "who's the scary man with the eye patch?"

Natasha, who was standing close, snorted. Steve ignored her and replied, "He's the guy in charge of SHIELD, remember, baby? His name's Nick Fury."

Nodding, Christy slowly stepped away from next to him, toward the rather imposing director. Steve was just glad that Fury had forgone his typical suit and was wearing semi-casual clothing.

"Hey, kid." Fury said. "You like it here, so far?"

Christy nodded again and stuck out her hand. "I like it. Nice…nice to meet you, Uncle Nick."

The room went silent enough to hear a pin drop. Steve was ready to insist that Christy maybe stick with "Uncle Fury," when the man in question smirked and shook her hand.

"Nice to meet you, too, kid. I see you've got more than just your dad's looks." At Christy's confused look, he added, "You've got his manners, and his guts, too. You're gonna need it, living around here."

With that, the ice was broken. The rest of the evening was taken up with much talking, eating, and laughing. Bruce, Tony, and Pepper also gave Christy their presents: a beautifully illustrated book of fairy tales, a Stark-issued i-pod, and a laptop.

"Stark! What in the world does she need a laptop for?" Steve argued, even as Christy booted up the device.

Tony shrugged. "Play games, watch movies, do homework? Besides, look, she loves it!"

Steve groaned.

He could see that while Christy got along well with everyone, definite patterns were starting to emerge. She went to Natasha to ask for help opening something (when she didn't ask him), Clint or Bruce to show something off, Pepper for an explanation, and Tony…to joke. She also seemed to be talking to Coulson a lot.

All in all, it was a good night. He finally kicked everybody out around ten.

"Christy needs to sleep, guys…"

Tony stood up. "And that, my friends, is code for, 'get out, you lazy bums!' I'm out."

Everyone slowly took their leave, leaving the new father and daughter to their first night alone.

Steve looked around the floor. He definitely didn't want to do dishes—clean up could wait till morning. He put the extra food in the fridge as Christy lay on the couch, clutching her new doll.

"You ready for bed, baby?" he asked.

Christy yawned. "Maybe…" Steve smiled.

"How about you get ready for bed? Your pajamas are in your room."

"Okay." she said sleepily. She got off the couch and went into her room.

Steve decided to clean up after all, to give her a moment. When he finished the dishes, he went and knocked on Christy's door.

"Come in, Daddy!"

He entered the room to find Christy practically swallowed in her new bed. The bed frame already present when he'd moved in was queen-sized, so he and Pepper had purchased a queen-sized mattress. Now, seeing his admittedly tiny daughter actually _in_ the bed, he wondered if maybe they should've gone for a smaller bed.

"Did you brush your teeth?" he asked. Christy nodded, and then yawned again.

"Daddy…can I…can you sing?" she looked down quickly and mumbled something.

Steve sat down next to her on the bed. "What was that?"

Christy slowly lifted her head. "Mommy used to sing me lullaby." she whispered.

"Ohhh…I can do that." Steve assured her.

"Really?"

"Really. Look, Christy, if you want something, don't hesitate to tell me. The worst I can say is no, but it will always be no for a good reason. And…I can't replace your mom, but I can try to do things that are familiar. Understand?"

She nodded. "Uh-huh. Thanks, Daddy."

"Now, what song do you want to hear?"

Christy thought. "Uh…you pick!"

Steve mentally groaned; he could barely remember the lullabies of his childhood and the lullabies of today had not exactly been a part of his "catch-up studies."

"Sure you don't have a favorite?" he asked again, trying to stall.

"Well…Mommy used to sing 'Baby Mine.' From Dumbo."

_Dumbo!_ Now, _that_ brought back a memory, sharp and strong. Bucky had dragged him to see it, trying to distract him from news of the war in Europe.

But the _song_ …

"I can do that." he said. "Lie down, now."

Christy lay down as Steve dimmed the lights a bit. He cleared his throat.

"I might be a little rusty…it's been awhile."

"Since you sang or since you saw Dumbo?"

Steve chuckled. "Both. But I saw Dumbo in theaters, right when it first came out."

Christy sat up a little. "Really? What was it like?"

"It was…nice. Really nice. Alright, lay back down, it's almost eleven o'clock."

"O-kay." Christy complied.

Steve sighed and, for once, willingly let his mind transport him back to his past, to that one day with Bucky in the dark, popcorn-infused theater. He'd liked Dumbo; he'd identified with the titular elephant quite a lot.

" _Ba-by mine, don't you cry,_

_Ba-by mine, dry your eyes,_

_Rest your head, close to my heart,_

_Never to part, baby of mine…_

_Little one, when you play,_

_Don't you mind, what they say_

_Let those eyes, sparkle and shine, never a tear_

_Baby of mine…"_

By the time he'd finished the second verse, Christy was out like a light. He gently kissed her forehead.

"Night, kid...night, baby. Have good dreams…I'll be here when you wake up."

That night, for the first time in a very long time, both the man out of time and the girl who was lost slept soundly all through the night.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Ever since her mom had passed away three months back, Christy had been out of school. She'd done basic schoolwork at the center (they had a part-time teacher on staff), but nothing very challenging for someone of Christy's intelligence level. She also needed time around people her own age.

Therefore, Steve was determined to get her back in school as soon as she felt settled enough. It took about a week before Christy began looking unstimulated and admitting she was bored.

So, they drove down to the local public school. Steve had debated this endlessly with the other Avengers; whether to register Christy under his name or not; if it was even safe to _enroll_ her in public school. Finally, they decided that, one, Rogers was a fairly common surname; and two, Christy could carry an emergency pager with her, hooked into Jarvis' system, in case there was any trouble.

The pager had actually been Tony's idea, a modified version of something he'd had in school. He was extremely familiar with navigating the territory of being famous man's son and Steve had been grateful for his input.

Tony had explained the pager to Christy, who'd been pretty okay with the whole thing. She seemed to understand that being Captain America's kid could possibly make her a target for bad guys, and she needed a way to call for help.

Introducing her to Jarvis…now that had been fun. She'd flinched slightly when the bodiless voice wafted down from the ceiling, but after a few minutes of conversation, she'd begun to be alright. Now, she'd periodically talk to the AI about anything and everything, and Steve had feeling that soon, nothing much would faze his daughter.

As they arrived at the school, the parking lot was fairly bare. It was early afternoon on a week day, the in-between time before parents began arriving for pick up.

Steve was a little shocked at the security guard that sat just inside the school, until he vaguely remembered reading something about a kid getting into a school and shooting people. Then he felt relief.

They went into the office. The lady at the front desk glanced up. "Yes? How can I help you?"

"I'm here to register my daughter for school. I just adopted her."

The woman smiled. "Oh, how wonderful! I can help you with this, just wait one moment."

Enrollment was actually fairly easy. Steve had looked up how to enroll a child in school and had found the documentation he was required to bring. After showing those items, Christy's name was registered in the system.

"Now, I realize that she's just experienced a very big change in her life." the woman explained, "So I understand if she might not want to start tomorrow…"

Steve glanced at Christy. "Well, it's Wednesday now. Would starting next Monday be alright?" Christy nodded. "Aright, she'll be in next Monday then, if that's okay…"

"That's perfectly fine. Here's a list of required school supplies and her class information. She's been placed in second grade, according to age."

"She's…according to her information, she's very bright…"

"Oh, the school has gifted classes; once she gets settled in, we'll see if she qualifies. She probably will."

"Alright, that answers that. Thank you for your time, ma'am."

* * *

The next few days involved a flurry of purchasing school supplies and Steve mentally preparing to have Christy gone during the day. He'd gotten used to having her around.

On Saturday, at about 10 a.m., the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" Christy cried. "Oh, hi Aunt Tasha."

"Hey, sweetheart." Natasha stepped in. "Is your dad around?"

"Right here." Steve answered, coming out of his room. "Something up?"

"Well…" Natasha looked at Christy. "Do you two have any plans for the day?"

"Not really…"

"I was wondering if Christy wanted a sparring lesson."

"You _what?!"_

Natasha sighed. "C'mon Rogers, it's not like we haven't discussed this before."

"Well, well yeah, but…" Steve sputtered. "But that was…"

_That was back before she was mine, officially, before I'd ever rocked her to sleep, or…_

Christy was looking thoughtful. "Sparring means fighting, right? So, a fighting lesson? With knives and guns and stuff?"

"Just knives." Natasha said quickly, as Steve's face turned an interesting shade of purple at the thought of Christy near a gun. "Just a knife. Just basic survival fighting skills. C'mon Steve, I was learning way worse at her age."

"Oh yes, because your upbringing was so stellar." Steve muttered darkly.

"No, it _wasn't_." Natasha said patiently. "Of course it wasn't. But you said it yourself, this world is dangerous. She needs to at least know how to protect herself."

"At s _even_?" Steve practically whimpered.

"People we fight…they don't care about age." Natasha countered.

"Can I Daddy? Please?" Christy asked.

Steve sighed. "Oh… _fine_! But I swear, Romanoff, one scratch on her and so help me I'll…I dunno! But I'll do something!"

Natasha held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay; I get it. She'll be fine." She turned to Christy. "Get changed, baby, and meet me on the Common Floor in ten minutes.

"Okay!"

* * *

Ten minutes later, Christy stood in front of Natasha in the spacious sparring gym. It was well equipped with targets, knives, guns and ammo, a punching bag, weights, and even some gymnastic mats and bars.

Christy was starting wide eyed at everything. Natasha cleared her throat. "Ready?"

"Ready." Christy replied. Her face was endearingly serious.

"Alright. Now, first of all…" Natasha stepped over to the rack of knives, testing a few to find one light enough for a child. "This is a knife. You handle a knife a little like you handle scissors. How do you hand scissors to someone?"

"You hold the cutting part."

"Good girl; that's right. Same deal with a knife. Now, how do you think you hold a knife when you're not fighting?"

"Uh…not pointed at someone?"

Natasha laughed. "True. You hold a knife with the blade down, like this." She demonstrated.

Christy nodded. "Okay."

"Good. That's basic weapon etiquette; the same's also true for guns, but we'll stick with knives for today. You also don't touch the blade or anything stupid like that. Now, I'm gonna hand you the knife. It's for practice, so it's pretty blunt, but don't swing it around, understand?"

"Yes, Aunt Tasha."

Natasha handed over the small practice knife; hilt first. She then waited to see what Christy would do. The girl looked at the weapon…and then slowly lowered it down to her side.

Natasha breathed a sigh of relief. "Good job." Christy grinned.

"Now, there's some important things to remember about fighting. First, the whole goal of fighting someone, especially someone dangerous, is to make that other person _not want to fight you_. You're not trying to show off; you're trying to save your life or someone else's. Or save yourself from getting hurt. Second, you have to keep calm in a fight."

Christy frowned. "But what if you're real mad at someone and they're a bad guy or hurting someone else…"

"It doesn't matter." Natasha stressed. "You have to keep your head. The person who controls themselves controls the fight. If you fight on emotion alone, you start not thinking and doing not-smart things. And your opponent will take advantage of that. You want to make _them_ mad so _they_ stop thinking straight."

"I…I can't do that." Christy whispered. "I _feel_ stuff. That's why I want to fight."

"You're allowed to 'feel stuff'." Natasha assured her; contradicting everything she'd ever been told in the Red Room (and feeling vengeful pleasure at doing so). "Those emotions can fuel you…but they can't control you." She suddenly had an idea. "Look, your brain and your heart are two separate things, right?"

"Yes…"

"So, in a fight, keep your emotions," she tapped her chest, "in here, and keep your fighting tactics," she touched her head, "in here. Your heart doesn't control your fighting skills, your brain does."

Christy slowly nodded her head. "Okay… that makes sense. I can do that."

"I know you can. Alright, let's work on knife movements. Your hold the knife up, _after_ I step back." She promptly did so and Christy raised the knife up carefully.

"Now, pretend there's an imaginary box in front of you, right where someone's chest would be. Take the knife and slash an 'x' from corner-to-corner."

Christy did, with big, swashbuckling-type movements. Natasha stopped her.

"Good basic idea, but try not to slash so much. Use your wrist to make the movements."

Christy's next attempt was much less over-the–top.

"That's right. Keep that up for a minute. Swish-flick; swish-flick." Natasha used her own wrist to imitate the knife's movements.

With that covered, they worked on stance. Natasha showed her how to turn her body, which foot to step forward with and so on.

"You're doing great. Next, put the knife down and we'll work on bare-handed fighting and a little gymnastics."

"Gymnastics?" Christy looked extremely puzzled. "What's gymnastics have to do with fighting?"

"Lots. You see any footage of the Battle of New York?"

"A little, on TV…"

"Well, I'll show you later. Basically, the quicker you are on your feet, the more flexible you are, the more you can get away, get back up, and wear out your opponent." She frowned. "I should take you down to SHIELD headquarters one day and have you practice flips on the trampoline, but for now, we'll just work on the basics. Can you do a forward roll?"

Christy frowned, and then nodded. She bent down and did a very floppy roll forward on the mat.

"Try keeping your arms tucked in." Natasha suggested. Christy did so, and the results were markedly improved.

"That's better. Let's try a back roll."

They did.

"Alright, looks good. We'll try some more advanced stuff in the SHIELD gym. Now come over to the bag and let me wrap your knuckles. We're gonna work on punches."

As it turned out, Christy packed a decent punch for a seven-year-old. So decent that Natasha poked her head out the sparring room door for a moment to confirm a theory.

Sure enough, Steve was sitting on the Common Floor couch with Clint, having a beer. Only, his beer looked practically untouched.

"Psst!" She hissed. Both men instantly looked over. "Rogers, get in here! You too, Clint."

They came in. Steve's jaw nearly hit the floor, with Clint's right behind it.

Christy looked like an automaton as she carefully whacked the poor, sad punching bag into oblivion. Her face was scrunched up in a concentrated frown.

"Well," Clint whispered, "I know what _someone's_ getting for Christmas…"

"I can't believe it…" Steve muttered. "I mean, she needs some work, obviously, but…" He shook his head.

"I think that's enough for today, Christy." Natasha tried. The girl didn't reply. "Christy? Come on, kid, lesson's over for today."

Steve smirked. "And this is why I'm the parent." He walked over and touched his daughter's shoulder.

Instantly, she spun around and drew up her fists; bouncing back on her heels. Until she realized who her "opponent" was…

"Sorry Daddy!" the fists came down like a lead weight. "Did you see? I did good!"

"Yeah, you did! You looked great." Steve assured her. "I think you're a real natural with that punching bag."

"Thanks! I remembered your story, so I pretended the punching bag was Red Skull."

Steve stood still for a moment, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

"Nah, see, it's gotta be Hitler, kiddo." Clint said. "That way, you can try to top your old man's record for sockin' old Hitler in the jaw!"

Steve rolled his eyes. "Hilarious, Barton." But Christy was thinking.

"That could work…" she walked back to the punching bag and gave it one last hard punch. "There. I did it."

The three adults gave each other a glance. Steve had a sinking feeling that it was going to become another Avenger's Patented Look.

It was a look that meant: _Crystal Elizabeth Allen Rogers is something else…_

And by 'something else,' they meant, 'not your average child.'

Then again, who _was_ average in Avengers Tower? They were all different from most of society in some way.

Steve sighed and lifted his daughter up in a hug. "Did you have a good lesson?"

"Uh-huh! Aunt Tasha taught me how to punch and fight with a knife and how to think when you're fighting…"

As Christy gushed on and on, Steve felt his guilty, worried feelings start to lift. Maybe Christy wasn't being raised in the most conventional situation ever. Maybe it wasn't normal for children to be pretending to punch a dead Nazi in the face.

But his daughter was loved. She was safe. She was happy. And in the end, those were the most important things.

Maybe a punching bag wouldn't be such a bad Christmas gift after all…


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Sunday night rolled around quicker than Steve wished; tomorrow was Christy's first day back at school. Christy herself was pretty excited; she liked learning and above all, she was thrilled to be in the same class as Tally.

That night, however, was probably the worst night since Christy had come to the Tower.

Everything had gone like normal: she'd showered and brushed her teeth; he'd tucked her in, read her a story, and kissed her goodnight. They both should have woken up the next morning, bright and early, ready to face the day.

Well, they both woke up early. Bright…not so much.

Steve was jolted awake at about one in the morning by the sound of heavy sobs coming from Christy's room. He immediately swung out of bed and went to see what the matter was.

He reached Christy's room and flipped on the lights to find his daughter curled up and crying into her pillow. She blinked in the sudden brightness and reached out for him.

"Daddy…" she cried. Steve picked her up.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong? Bad dream?" he crooned softly.

"Mommy; I saw mommy." Christy whimpered. "I dunno why, but I saw her! I-I want my mom!"

She buried her face in his shoulder. Steve quietly surrendered any hope for a normal night's sleep…and then felt like an enormous hypocrite. How many nights had he woken up from a terrible dream, wishing for someone to be there with him?

He grabbed Christy's comforter off her bed and carried her out to the couch.

"Shh, shh; hey, it's alright. It's gonna be okay…" he tried.

"No it's not!" Christy howled. "That's the biggest lie ever! She's gone and I'm never gonna see her again! How is that supposed to be okay?"

Steve felt rather inclined to agree with his daughter. He knew what it felt like; to have people you loved ripped away. Grief was an old, familiar acquaintance to him.

"And it's not just me!" Christy exclaimed, as though she were reading his mind. "You miss people, too! Everything hurts!"

She had really worked herself up now, with big, racking sobs shaking her body like an electric current.

"Hey, hey…shhh…" Steve kept up the soothing litany. "What'cha tryin' to do, darlin'; cry for the world?"

It was something his own mother had said to him when he was very young. There had been a song, too, hadn't there…?

"Oh, my child…" he whispered, trying to remember the tune. Suddenly, the memory kicked in.

" _Oh, my child, you cry so many tears,_

_Seems like you've been cryin' for the world_

_Oh, my child, your world so full of fears,_

_Seems like you've been cryin' for the world_

_I to bare you, I to raise you_

_Father, give me strength to do it right…_

_I to adore you, be a refuge for you_

_Father, give me strength to do it right…"_

As he sang, he ran his hand through Christy's hair, working out tangles. Her crying began to slow and the shaking grew less.

He'd learned one thing quickly about his new daughter: she loved music. When all else failed, music could soothe her like nothing else. And it just so happened that most soothing music of all to her was his voice.

"You like that?" he asked. She moved her head up and down on his shoulder. "Yeah, thought you would. My…my mom used to sing that to me. There's more, if you want…?"

Another nod. So he sang.

_"_ _Hush, my child, and lay you down to sleep_

_Seems like you've been cryin' for the world_

_Hush, my child, your tears that burn so deep_

_Seems like you've been cryin' for the world_

_I will protect you; guard you and guide you_

_Father, give me strength to do it right…_

_I will love you, more than I have to_

_Father, give me strength to do it right..."_

Steve trailed off a bit as he reached the last verse of the song. It was the one that had always made his mother cry, though as a child, he'd never quite understood why that was. Now, as a father himself, he knew.

_"_ _Oh, my child, I only wish I could_

_Suffer all the trials in your place…_

_Oh, my child, you know I truly would_

_Take on all the evils you will face…_

_I will protect you; guard you and guide you_

_Father, give me strength to do it right…_

_I will adore you; be a refuge for you_

_Father, give me strength…"_

By the time he finished, Christy's sobs had completely stopped.

"I know you weren't lying." she whispered. "I know you meant everything would be okay. But that's what _everybody_ said to me; the doctors, Mrs. Darrow, Miss Emily, everyone! And I still wasn't okay!"

Steve sighed and felt his heart ache yet again for the pain his little girl had already suffered.

"It's okay…to _not_ be okay." he said. "I know you miss your mom. I miss Bucky and Peggy and Howard and all the Commandos. That kind of missing…it's not something that goes away overnight. I know it hurts. Believe me, baby, I _know_. It's alright to cry about it."

Christy looked up at him, her eyes big and innocent in the moonlight. "But _you_ don't cry…"

Steve let out a harsh, guttural sigh. "Yeah, actually I do, sweetheart."

"Then how come I don't _see_ you cry?" she questioned. Steve felt his gut twist.

"Well, I haven't really had any nightmares or bad memories since you've been here, Christy."

She nodded, pacified. "But what about when you _do_? Will you let me see you cry then?"

"I…I…well, why would you want to see that, baby?"

Christy looked at him with a 'duh' expression. "So I can help you not hurt so bad, like you do for me! So you can feel better."

For a minute, they were both silent. Then, Christy whispered, "That's what it means to be found, anyway. To let someone see all the bits you try to hide. Mommy told me that."

Steve let out a half-sob, half-laugh. "Your mother was _very_ smart, did you know that?"

"Yeah, I did." she suddenly looked serious. "Daddy, am I going to be very tired in school tomorrow?"

Steve actually laughed at that. He checked his watch. "Well, it's almost two o'clock in the morning. You need to be up by seven. Let's get in my bed and try to sleep, and we'll see how you feel in the morning, alright?"

"Okay. Thanks Daddy."

As they both bundled into his bed, Steve couldn't get Christy's words out of his mind.

_That's what it means to be found, anyway. To let someone see all the bits you try to hide._

_You don't have to give her all the gory details, just tell the truth._

He sighed. Christy was already asleep, but he whispered anyway: "You want to find me, baby? See the bits I try to hide? They're not…very nice."

'Not very nice.' Now _that_ was an understatement.

"But I guess since you let me find you, I can let you find me. I…I don't want to hide anymore…and if we can both tell each other when it hurts too bad…maybe everything will be okay."

Eventually, Steve drifted off to the sound of Christy's even breathing beside him. It was strange, really. Even though he'd done very little soul-baring tonight, he felt almost…whole. Less empty.

His last conscious thought was that this must be what it felt like to be found.

* * *

The alarm went off at 7:00 a.m. Steve rolled over and groaned, still a little worn from…earlier that morning. He shook Christy lightly.

"Hey princess, you up for school?"

Christy moaned. She _hated_ getting up early with a passion that almost rivaled Clint's. "I'm tired…"

"I know, but you wanted to go to school. And besides, you'll see Tally."

That got her awake. She sat up, yawning, and suddenly seemed to realize where she was.

"Why am I…oh, yeah." she smiled sheepishly. "I liked the lullaby, Daddy."

Steve smiled back. "I'm glad. Now, go get dressed; I'll make you some breakfast. Scrambled eggs okay?"

"Yup!" Christy tore out of the room at breakneck speed. Steve got up and headed into the kitchen.

He'd almost finished making eggs when Christy came bouncing out, like the previous night had never even happened.

"Here ya go, kid." he said, sliding her breakfast to her at the bar counter. "Eat up."

Christy finished her breakfast in short order while Steve went to get dressed for the day.

All too soon, they had gotten out the door, gotten on Steve's motorcycle, and arrived at the school. Steve wore a baseball cap and prayed that no one recognized him.

He walked Christy down to her classroom. The teacher was present and had already been informed of the new addition to her class. Christy, though, only cared about one thing.

"Tally!" she cried, giving Steve a last hug before practically _flinging_ herself over to her friend's desk.

Tally was up in two seconds. "Christy! I missed you so much!"

"I know! How's it going, with your new family?"

"Pretty good. It's weird having a brother, but he's nice, _sometimes._ "

Steve smiled and left the class. He'd spoken to Christy's teacher, briefly explaining things, and the woman had promised to call if there were any problems.

Somehow, after seeing Christy run to her friend, he had a feeling things would be okay.

* * *

Back at the Tower, Steve decided to head to the Common Floor and see if any of his team was awake and among the living. As he'd thought, Natasha (the team's earliest riser next to him), was awake, drinking coffee on the couch with Clint (who looked bleary-eyed and mildly annoyed). Bruce was making bacon and Tony (shock of shocks) was standing beside him, snitching pieces as they finished cooking.

"Stop that." Bruce muttered, slapping Tony's hand away. "This is for everybody. We don't have an endless supply of bacon and you know how much Steve eats."

"Who says we don't have an endless supply of bacon?" Tony griped. "That's why I became a billionaire, specifically to have an endless supply of bacon."

"You know, the funny thing is, that's almost plausible." Steve said, causing everyone's eyes to roam to him.

"Hey, Steve." Natasha said. "There's coffee on the stove. How was the first day of school?"

"Well, she's in a class with her friend and her teacher seems nice, so it should be alright." Steve poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down in a chair opposite the couch.

Clint peered at him. "Man, you look wiped."

"So do you." Steve offered back. The archer gave a half-grin.

"Touché. Tasha woke me up too early."

Natasha scowled. "We have a mission later this week, we need to train."

"At five in the morning?" Clint argued. "Was that really necessary?"

One word from Natasha was all it took. "Budapest."

"You and I remember Budapest very differently." Clint muttered. Seeing everyone's curious looks, he hastily changed the subject. "But Steve, seriously, you look exhausted. Rough night?"

Steve sighed. "Yeah, you could put it like that. Christy woke up with a nightmare."

Clint winced immediately. "Aw, poor kid. She doin' better?"

"Yeah, yeah, she's alright now, but it was touch and go for a bit. I also might have made a really stupid promise…"

"As the king of stupid decisions, I reserve the right to classify all so-called stupidity." Tony broke in. Steve rolled his eyes.

"I tried to tell her that everything would be okay, y'know, the kind of thing you're _supposed_ to say to a kid that had a bad dream about her dead mother. Well, she didn't wanna hear that; apparently she'd gotten the idea that being okay meant actually being whole and healed and not in emotional pain."

"No, no; I can attest that being okay does _not_ mean that." Bruce said. "Okay can mean a variation of different things from 'pretty much still alive' to 'five seconds from death.' And not just physical death either."

Clint frowned. "Remind me to never believe any of you idiots if you say you're okay. I hate that word, anyway. So, what happened next?"

"Well, I told her that she was allowed to _not_ be okay, that the death of someone you care about isn't something you just _get over_ , and that it's okay to cry about it. Then, she asked why she'd never seen _me_ cry."

"Ouch." Natasha muttered. "Nice conviction from a seven-year-old. Has she been taking lessons from Coulson?"

Steve shrugged. "I doubt it. She said she wanted to see me those times…when I'm…remembering. To help me feel better."

Tony whispered something along the lines of, "My teeth are rotting from all the sweetness." Bruce whacked him on the arm.

"And what did _you_ say?" Natasha asked.

"I…may have said I'd let her."

The room went silent. Natasha shrugged. "I've heard of worse promises. I've _made_ worse promises."

Clint nodded. "Kids like honesty. And they don't like it when the people who are supposed to be grown-up and strong are hurting. I think your kid sees a lot; feels a lot, too. To let her in…I don't think that's a bad thing."

"Yeah, maybe you're right."

They all ate breakfast. Tony and Bruce trooped off to the lab. Clint claimed he was going to take a nap.

Natasha rolled her eyes, but as he left the floor, she stayed sitting at the table. "So, you've been crying, Rogers?"

If it had been anyone, _anyone_ but Natasha, Steve would probably have played that off with a sarcastic comment. Instead, he gave a half-hearted smile and said:

"It's not every day you wake up in a new century to find that everyone you loved is dead or dying."

"I suppose you're right." Natasha leaned forward. "I don't know what that's like…but I wouldn't mind hearing about it."

Steve could recognize an offer when he saw one. And he was smart enough to take it.

"Alright. But I need more coffee first."


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter Thirteen

For the most part, Christy liked school. Sure, it could get a little tedious sometimes, but Mrs. Warner, her teacher, tried to make things interesting.

Christy loathed math (too many precise numbers and no room for creativity) but she could still _do_ it, and she enjoyed most everything else, especially reading and history. She had Tally, and she'd begun to make friends with some of the other girls in class.

There was only one thing wrong with school: Tyler Morrigan.

Well, that was a bit mean. Tyler wasn't a _thing_ , after all, just the most annoying boy to ever grace planet earth. He was always making smart-aleck comments and cutting remarks that were supposed to be 'funny' (they weren't). He was, in a word, a bully.

And he happened to be in _her class_.

During class time, Mrs. Warner could handle him pretty well, but at recess, things were different. Teachers did their best, but they couldn't be everywhere on the playground at once. And it just so happened that Tyler, and his partner in crime, Zack, would take advantage of that.

Christy wasn't _completely_ hot blooded, and she did have some sense of self-preservation. It was the same with Tally. But there were lines that could not be crossed without one or both of them intervening.

One Tuesday, Tyler crossed the line.

It was a gray, overcast November afternoon, a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving. Recess was in full swing. Christy and Tally were leaning up against the playground fence, talking.

Christy suddenly grabbed her friend's arm. "Tally, look! It's Tyler— _again_. He's messin' with Sienna!"

Sienna Martinez was a shy, quiet girl who sat two desks back from Tally. She was a gifted artist and preferred to spend recess drawing by herself.

Tally turned to see where Christy was pointing. "Oh, no. That's it; that boy is gonna get it! C'mon!" she started to run, but Christy stopped her.

"Let's do recon—be sneaky and go see what's goin' on." she said. She had learned that word from Uncle Clint.

Tally sighed. "Fine."

The two girls snuck around the playground until they were close behind Tyler and Zack.

Tyler held a drawing in his hands, clearly Sienna's, and was pretending to tear it up, making a ripping noise with his mouth. Zack was laughing like it was the greatest show on earth.

"Give it back!" Sienna cried. She sounded near tears.

"Nah, I think I'll keep it a while." Tyler said casually. "Maybe you can quit being a loser and go make friends instead of staying by yourself like a _freak_ …"

That was enough recon for Christy. "I'll distract him; you get the drawing." she whispered to Tally, who nodded.

Christy reached out and grabbed Tyler's arm. "Hey, Tyler, she's not a loser; you are!"

The boy stopped waving the picture for a moment, giving Tally the chance to pry it from his grasp. She pushed it into Sienna's hand and whispered something to the girl, who nodded and ran off. Then she whirled around and stood shoulder to shoulder with Christy.

Tyler sneered. "Wat'cha gonna do, tell the _teacher_?"

Christy ignored the barb. "What you gotta pick on Sienna for? She's barely said two words to you, you stupid bully. And she's not the only one! Quit bein' a jerk!"

"And who's gonna make me? You and your little sidekick?"

Tally looked murderous. "You really wanna mess with me? My big brother Damian could rip you to shreds!"

"Your big brother ain't here!" Zack snarled. Tyler rolled his eyes.

"C'mon, I've had enough of this. Let's go." He started to literally shove his way through Christy and Tally. The girls, however, were not prepared to let him get away that easily.

Christy shoved him back, so hard that he staggered and almost fell over. "You're the biggest jerk in the whole class! All you do is make people feel bad and I want you to quit it!"

"Nobody cares what you want, stupid! Why should I listen to you? Your parents didn't even love you enough to keep you!"

Christy just stood her ground, rolling her eyes. Really, that was a very low and idiotic blow. Not to mention a complete lie.

"Her parents _died_ , you dummy!" Tally screamed.

Suddenly, Mrs. Warner's voice sounded from behind them. "And w _hat_ is the meaning of this! Chrystal, Natalie, Tyler; come with me. Now!"

Christy realized that Zack had run off at the sight of their teacher.

_Coward,_ she thought, smirking. She hoped this would finally put an end to Tyler's bullying.

* * *

Steve was beyond shocked to get a call from Christy's school asking him to come in that afternoon. And for a _behavioral problem_! What could Christy possibly have done that was a behavioral problem?

He entered the principal's office at Christy's school feeling more than a little apprehensive. His daughter, Tally, a tiny Hispanic girl and a sullen blonde boy all sat to the side of the principal's desk.

A woman stood next to the boy's chair, presumably his mother. Another woman sat beside Tally, looking both mad and proud. Steve sat down next to Christy and placed a hand on her knee.

She looked up immediately. "Dad, I'm sorry, I just couldn't…" Steve shook his head.

"Shh. It's alright, I'm not mad. I trust you." He took her hand and smiled at her. She smiled back, tight and brave.

The principal, a man by the name of Mr. Olsen, sat down at his desk. He looked at the small Hispanic girl. "Sienna, I tried calling both your parents, but there was no answer."

Sienna looked up nervously. "They both work." she sniffled a bit. "Am I in trouble?"

"No!" The word was out of both Christy and Tally's mouths in an instant. Christy grabbed the girl's hand.

Mr. Olsen tried, and failed, to look stern. "I believe I will be the judge of that. Now, would someone please like to explain what happened? Chrystal, you first."

Christy took a deep breath. "Tally and I were over by the fence on the playground. We saw Tyler picking on Sienna. He was messing with her drawing and calling her names. Tally took the drawing back and told Sienna to get Mrs. Warner. I told Tyler to quit picking on kids, 'cause he does it all the time, and then he shoved me and Tally. I may have shoved him back."

Steve could feel his heart swelling up with pride. _And that, ladies and gentlemen, is_ _ **my daughter**_ _._

Tally's story was much the same as Christy's, only she added in the part about Tyler insulting Christy for being adopted.

"And I don't think that was very nice." she said primly, glaring sideways at Tyler. Her mother put a hand on her arm. The glare subsided—slightly.

"Sienna? Is this true?" the principal asked.

She nodded, looking scared. "Yes, it's true. He took my drawing, and they got it back. He…he also called me names."

"What did he call you?" Mr. Olsen inquired gently.

Sienna told him.

With a long sigh, the man rounded on Tyler. "Young man, just _what_ exactly do you have to say for yourself?"

Tyler rolled his eyes and said, "It wasn't that bad. I was just joking around, jeez!"

Steve had to remind himself, very firmly, that Captain America wasn't probably wasn't allowed to smack children (even if this kid _at_ _least_ deserved a good spanking).

"It didn't sound like 'joking around' to me." Mr. Olsen said. "You said some seriously hurtful, uncalled for things. Is that all you have to say for yourself?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Tyler!" his mother hissed. The boy ignored her.

"Well then, you and your mother will be staying awhile longer. One last thing; Chrystal, you said you 'may have' shoved Tyler, but only after he initiated things by shoving you first. Correct?"

Christy nodded. "Yes, sir. Tyler shoved me first."

"Very well, I'll let it slide this time; call it self-defense. Though I would advise you to remember that violence is rarely the answer."

"Yes sir."

"Alright. Mrs. Morrigan, I'd like to speak with you and your son a moment longer. The rest of you are free to go. Thank you for coming in."

"One moment, sir, if I may." Steve interjected. "As Christy's father, I'd like to say something to this young man."

The principal nodded. "Go ahead."

Steve faced the boy, fighting to keep his emotions in check. "I expect to never hear anything more about you from my daughter, ever again, _is that clear_?" he asked, using only a slightly toned-down version of his 'Captain America voice.' "What you said was wrong and hurtful. Sitting alone and drawing does not make someone a freak. I should know, because _I_ used to do it! I still do on occasion!"

Tyler gaped slightly. The muscled man before him was definitely _not_ a freak!

"As for what you said about my daughter…" Steve turned and addressed Tyler's mother, "Ma'am I sincerely hope you teach your son better than that. Because that comment was not only uncalled for, it was completely ignorant."

The woman nodded furiously. "We will be discussing that." she hissed, glaring at her son.

Mr. Olsen glanced at Steve. "If that's all, Mr. Rogers…"

Steve nodded. "That's all."

"Well then, I thank you for that. You all are free to go now."

As they all trooped out of the office, Steve whispered to Christy, "I am so proud of you."

Christy lit up like a Christmas tree. "You mean it?"

"I mean it! You know I don't like bullies." he said firmly. "And wait till everyone else back at the Tower hears about this! You'll be the hero of the day!"

Tally tapped Christy's arm and jerked her head at Sienna. Christy nodded. "Can I go talk to Sienna, daddy?"

"Don't you three need to go back to class?"

"But it's _math_ , Daddy…"

Steve shook his head. "You can talk to her on the way back to class. I'll see you in an hour, when school's over." He could hear Tally's mother giving a similar speech to her daughter.

The three girls started to walk back to class. Steve walked over to Tally's mother.

"Steve Rogers." he said, sticking out his hand. The woman shook it. "Regina Jackson; Tally's mom." she grinned. "So you're the famous Mr. Steve that Tally kept talking about. Nice to finally meet you in person."

Steve smiled. "Likewise. I didn't realize I made such an impression on your daughter, but she's been a good friend to Christy."

"Oh, I've heard plenty about Christy, too." Regina laughed. "Feels like every sentence outta that girl's mouth is 'Christy this' and 'Christy that.' Those two are pretty much inseparable."

"They were already close when I first met Christy." Steve said. "And Tally…well; she was the one who finally convinced me to adopt Christy. And I regret nothing."

Regina nodded. "Yeah, it's a tough choice, but it does have its rewards." She glanced at her watch. "School lets out in about an hour and I'm not going to go back home before then, there's no point. There's a coffee place up the road…would you like to go get a cup and talk? If you're not too busy, that is."

Steve shook his head. "Got no other plans; that sounds fine, Mrs. Jackson."

"Call me Regina. Are you in the military? I heard you in there, calling everybody 'sir' and 'ma'am'."

"Well, politeness is the least expensive habit I know of." Steve said, grinning. "And…I am former military, of a sort."

"'Of a sort,' hmph!" Regina began to walk out of the school. Steve followed. "You sound like my husband when he comes home from work. Never can get a straight answer outta that man!"

"Where does your husband work?" Steve asked.

"Oh, this strange government organization…at least I think they work for the government. It's called SHIELD. He's a tech worker."

Steve kept walking, but he could feel his eyebrows shooting up.

_This could be interesting_ …

* * *

Christy, Tally, and Sienna walked back to class slowly. None of them were entirely keen on getting back fast.

"Thanks for getting my drawing back." Sienna said quietly. "It was for my mom."

"No problem." Christy said firmly. "I really hate bullies."

"Me, too." Tally added. "I hope Mr. Olsen can straighten Tyler out."

Christy snorted. "I hope so, but that would take a miracle."

"I just want him to go away." Sienna whispered. "Why does he pick on me? I never talk to him!"

"Because you're different and he can't deal with it." Tally said. "But from now on, you stick with us at recess. Or we'll stick with you."

Christy nodded. "Yeah, Tyler won't wanna mess with any of us after today! We'll be a team." _Like the Avengers,_ she thought.

Sienna started to perk up. "Thanks, you guys." Christy hugged her.

"Like we said; no problem!"

They made it back to class and sat down. The math lesson for the day was almost over. Christy smiled; today had almost been perfect.

_Get to miss math, get to call out Tyler…wonder if Dad would say we could go out to eat tonight and celebrate?_

* * *

Steve said yes to going out for dinner that night. He also said yes to Christy sleeping over at Tally's house that weekend.

As they sat in the restaurant that night, Steve grabbed his daughter's hand across the table. "You were very brave today, Christy. You did a good thing."

Christy shrugged modestly. "I just don't like bullies. And Sienna doesn't deserve being picked on. She draws really well! Tyler's just a jerk." she paused. "Thanks for calling him out."

"My pleasure." Steve drawled. "Christy…what he said to you…you didn't actually believe any of that, did you?"

Christy shook her head. "He was just angry and being stupid; like Aunt Tasha said. When people get angry in fights, they don't think and they do not-smart things. I guess that doesn't just mean in a punching fight."

"No, you're right, it doesn't. But sweetheart…you know your mom loved you very much?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"And I love you, too. And _that_ is the only thing I _can_ promise 'forever' for."

Christy smiled. "I love you, too, Daddy. Forever 'till the end of the line."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

With November came Thanksgiving. The next couple of weeks rolled by in a blaze of school, training, play dates (for Christy), and lazy Saturday mornings. But at last, the holiday was upon them.

Christy was _beyond_ excited to celebrate Thanksgiving with her new family and Steve was determined to give her the best day possible—not only because he wanted to, but because it also prevented him from focusing too much on past Thanksgivings.

Memories were dangerous things, for the both of them. But they were healing, slowly but surely.

The Sunday before Thanksgiving, on a rare occasion that all the team (minus Thor, plus Christy) was in the Common Floor living room watching TV, Steve broached the subject.

"So…is anyone doing anything for Thanksgiving?"

Natasha shrugged. "Not exactly. Is your floor open?"

"Yeah, I was maybe gonna make a few things…" Steve said casually. Christy shook her head crazily.

"Dad's gonna make _everything_! So you guys should all come!" she said decisively.

" _Everything_ , huh?" Tony said.

Christy rolled her eyes, a habit she'd picked up from Steve. "Well, not everything. But he's definitely gonna make a turkey."

Tony nodded. "Well, Pepper and I were just gonna eat down here. But if you're making food, Steve…"

"We should _all_ just eat down here." Clint put in. "Have a big team meal. Maybe invite Coulson and Hill; heck, maybe even Fury would come."

"Does the eye-patch even celebrate holidays?" Tony quipped. Everyone ignored him.

"Okay, so what does everyone want to eat?" Steve asked. "Christy, can you find a pen and paper?"

"Just use your tablet, old man." Tony muttered. Steve whacked his arm, just as Christy came back with list-making materials. "Thanks, baby. So, turkey, obviously. With the amount we eat, probably _two_ turkeys. What else?"

"Bruce can make _smashed_ potatoes." Tony offered. Bruce glared, but nodded. "I can do mashed potatoes."

Christy grinned. "Those are my favorite. Can I help make them?"

Bruce's glare subsided. "Sure, sweetheart."

"Cranberry sauce." Tony added. Everyone nodded.

"I can do vegetables." Natasha offered. "Green beans, Brussels sprouts…will Christy eat those?" she asked Steve.

Steve nodded. "She actually likes most vegetables."

"Except for tomatoes." Christy made a face. "Ugh."

Clint rubbed her shoulder in silent camaraderie. "Yeah, tomatoes are pretty gross, huh, kid?"

"No tomatoes." Steve promised. "What about stuffing?"

"Pepper makes the best stuffing in the universe." Tony said. "Seriously, I'm drooling thinking about it."

"Does Pepper ever _not_ do anything well?" Clint muttered to Natasha. The redhead grinned.

"I know, I know. But it's actually kind of cute. Besides," she added in a near-silent whisper, "you do it, too."

Clint's lips twitched in a silent laugh.

"Okay, so that's turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, vegetables…what else?" Steve asked.

"Sweet potatoes with marshmallows and brown sugar?" Bruce asked; his voice enveloped in longing.

Everyone stared.

"What, it's my one good memory of Thanksgiving!" the scientist protested.

Steve nodded. Good childhood memories were few and far between for most of his team. "Right, sweet potatoes it is."

"And crescent rolls." Clint added firmly. "Oh, and pie. We need pie."

Natasha smirked. "Not sure how much _need_ factors into that equation, but…"

Clint snorted. "Well, what do you know about Thanksgiving traditions, you're Russian!" he mock-argued

"Barton, you're the one who _introduced_ me to this holiday in the first place!" Natasha said, mildly exasperated.

"Now _that_ is a story I want to hear." Tony said.

"Me, too!" Christy echoed.

"And you can hear it _on Thanksgiving_." Steve said, steering the conversation back to pertinent matters. "Anything else?"

Clint shook his head. "Don't think so…I can make pies beforehand, 'cause that takes a while. Yes, Stark, I _can_ bake." he added, at Tony's incredulous stare. "You think that pie I brought the night of Christy's welcome home party was store-bought? Don't make me laugh!"

"Alright, well, I can put in the turkeys the night before Thanksgiving, and then we can all meet down here the next morning and divide up making stuff." Steve said.

Everybody nodded.

"Jarvis, did you get all that? Can you order supplies?" Tony asked, tipping his head towards the ceiling.

"I can do that, Sir." came the AI's smooth voice.

"Hi, Jarvis!" Christy said, tipping her head up like Tony. "Did you have a good day?"

"I did indeed, Miss Rogers." Jarvis replied; his normally professional tone softened into something like a verbal smile.

Steve checked his watch. "Uh, oh; nine-twelve. Looks like bedtime for someone."

Christy pouted. "Do I _have_ too?"

"You have school in the morning." Steve said, lifting her up on his shoulder. "Besides, don't you get off from school starting Wednesday?"

"Yeah! But I still hate going to bed early."

"Look, kid, just be glad you have someone around to make you go to bed at a decent hour." Tony said, in a rare moment of seriousness.

Christy sighed. "Yeah, I guess…"

She still hated that she was the only one in the Tower who had to go to bed early. But if that was what it meant to have someone who cared, then Christy knew she wouldn't trade it for anything.

* * *

The week dragged slowly through Monday and Tuesday (at least to Christy). Finally, it was Wednesday night, time to cook the turkeys.

It seemed like everybody had an opinion on how to cook a turkey. Steve had had Jarvis look up 'easy Thanksgiving turkey recipes,' so he'd gotten a decent idea on how to do it, but everyone on the team insisted on throwing in their two cents. Well, _everyone_ being mostly Bruce and Clint.

He was sort of glad for the advice, though, given that he'd never actually cooked a turkey before.

"Are you telling me that _Captain_ _America_ doesn't know how to cook a turkey?" Tony asked in mock-horror.

"We were sort of _poor_ , Stark." Steve hissed, digging the bag of giblets out of the second turkey. "Turkey was expensive; we usually ended up eating chicken on Thanksgiving."

"You must've had turkey at some point, though." Bruce said.

"Yeah, I remember one year my mom managed to get one from somewhere…I don't know how she did it."

Christy, enjoying to chance to stay up late, frowned. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

"Don't be sorry, baby. I wasn't ever starving." Steve assured his daughter. "And this year, I get to celebrate Thanksgiving with someone very special."

"Aww, Rogers, I'm touched." Tony said, pressing his hand to his arc reactor.

"Not you, Stark!"

"You need to baste the turkeys in wine." Clint suddenly broke in.

"Wine?" Steve looked over from the spice cabinet, where he was getting out seasoning. "The recipe didn't say anything about that!"

"Trust me, you need it. Just get a whole bottle of some kind of white wine…actually, let me do it." Clint started rifling through Tony's wine collection, ignoring the billionaire's token protests. "Here ya go, Pinot Grigio; dry, white, perfect. Just pour a whole bottle over each of 'em."

"A whole bottle?" Steve asked skeptically, staring at the wine like it was from outer space.

"Yup! Just pour it on!" Clint said, imitating the motion with his hands.

Steve looked at Bruce. Bruce shrugged. "Sounds fine to me."

"Alright, alright, just let me get the seasoning on first…"

"Aren't you supposed to be making pies, anyway, Clint?" Natasha asked.

Clint waved his hand. "Already covered. Well, sorta covered. I made two apple pies today. I'll make pumpkin tomorrow."

"You have _pie_?" Christy asked, glancing toward the elevator.

"No, Christy, you cannot have pie at 10 o'clock at night." Steve said, guessing her intent.

"But Daaaad!"

"No. You'll get plenty of food tomorrow, I promise."

"Fine."

* * *

It was around nine o'clock on Thanksgiving morning. Christy was sitting at the kitchen counter helping Bruce peel potatoes.

At first, the scientist had balked at handing a sharp kitchen tool to the seven-year-old, but he'd quickly decided that with all the other Avengers AWOL at the moment, he needed all the help he could get.

"You doin' okay?" he asked quietly. Christy nodded.

"I figured it out." They worked in silence for a few minutes. "Uncle Bruce?"

"Yeah, kid?"

"You said sweet potatoes and marshmallows were your one good Thanksgiving memory. Don't you have any more?"

Bruce bit his lip to stop the groans emanating within him from leaking out. "Uh, no…not really, Christy. My childhood…it wasn't all that great."

"Oh." Christy frowned and shifted restlessly. She looked at the slicer. "Uncle Bruce? Can I cut something?" she asked, her voice a little strained.

Bruce's eyes widened. "Uh, yeah, sure…here, the sweet potatoes. Wash them and cut them up into little chunks. I'll show you."

Christy scrubbed at the skin of the sweet potatoes—probably a bit harder than necessary.

"Nobody here had a happy childhood." she said suddenly, in a burst of emotion. "Uncle Clint was in foster care, like me. Aunt Tasha won't tell me anything; which means it was bad. Uncle Tony didn't like his dad. And _my_ dad woke up in another century! It makes me mad!"

She let out a tiny growl. Bruce turned off the sink and grabbed the scrub brush from her hand.

"Breathe." he said firmly. "In; and out."

Christy obeyed, drawing in a couple shallow breaths. "Sorry…I just…don't want anything bad to happen to anyone else. Even if it happened a long time ago."

Bruce shook his head. "You are your father's kid, alright."

Christy made a face. "Everyone keeps saying that. What does that even mean?"

"Well, for most people, it means you look like him—same hair, same eyes. But _I_ meant that you act like him. He'll say stuff like that. Determined to make sure everybody else is okay, even when _he's_ not."

"Oh…okay."

"Besides." Bruce said firmly. " _You_ are having a happy childhood, right now. And that's good enough for us."

"Really?" Christy asked.

"Really. Even for Tony; though the jerk doesn't show it. He's already making you a Christmas present."

"Already? Really? What is it? Can I have a hint? Plleeease, Uncle Bruce, pllleeaase?"

"Hey, hey; one holiday at a time, kid." Bruce grinned.

He now had _two_ good memories of Thanksgiving.

* * *

The quiet atmosphere in the kitchen lasted not too much longer after that. Steve came back from his run, Natasha showed up from somewhere, and Pepper dragged Tony out of his lab. Clint was 'somewhere, but he'll show up' (Natasha's words).

Everything descended into a mad scramble to get things done.

Cranberry sauce was easy to make—open a can and smooth it out. Potatoes, both kinds, took a bit longer.

Natasha sliced Brussels sprouts in half with an accuracy that was almost deadly. Christy helped.

"We'll call this knife training for the day." Natasha said, smirking.

Christy giggled. "I like cutting stuff."

"As long as your cutting is limited only to food and paper, I will be satisfied." Steve warned. "No people."

"But Dad, what if, someday, when I'm bigger and older…"

"No!" Steve said firmly. He paused, and laughed, suddenly.

"What?" Natasha asked.

"Now I know how Bucky felt whenever I talked about going to war." Steve replied slowly. "I always thought he was just being overprotective."

"I think your friend would call this payback." Pepper said.

"Yeah, probably."

"Oh, that reminds me!" Tony cried. "I bet Christy would love to see some of your old USO shows and I think I have some of the tapes just lying around…"

"Not in this century or the next!" Steve vowed. "My daughter is not going to see me look like a performing monkey!"

"But Daddy, I wanna see you punch Hitler in the jaw!"

"It was…just an actor?" Steve tried. Christy still looked too excited for his comfort. "Fine. Maybe later."

"Maybe what later?" Clint asked, coming off the elevator.

"Nothing." Steve said firmly. "Absolutely…how many pies did you _make_ Barton?"

"Three. Everyone knows the best part is leftovers."

Everyone but Natasha stared in mild shock at the archer. Clint shrugged.

"So, what, I like baking. C'mon the food's not gonna cook itself!"

* * *

Finally, _finally_ , the food was all cooked, on the table, and ready to be devoured. Coulson had managed to come, though Hill and Fury had not.

"They said sorry they couldn't come, but Happy Thanksgiving, anyway." Coulson said. "And from Fury—his words, not mine, 'a special Happy Thanksgiving to the littlest Avenger.'"

Christy beamed like a light bulb. Everyone's collective 'awws' almost drowned out Steve's 'over my dead body.' Almost, but not quite.

"Right, I'm starving!" Tony declared. "Let's eat!"

"Who's cutting the turkey?" Bruce asked.

Everyone looked between Tony and Steve— the team leader and the master of the house. Steve shook his head.

"His Tower; he cuts the turkey. Today, Tony Stark comes before Captain America."

Something frozen in the dark recesses of Tony's heart (or arc reactor) slowly started thawing at that statement. He'd begun to (sort of) forgive his dad for the neglect Howard had showed him, often in favor of searching for the man in front of him.

He caught the unspoken message in Steve's words: _You matter just as much as me, no matter what your father said._

Pepper grabbed the carving knife and handed it ceremoniously to Tony.

And Tony smiled, really smiled, as he plunged the knife into the first turkey.

"Happy Thanksgiving, guys."

* * *

Later that night, tired and saturated to the brim with food, everybody began to retire to their own floors.

Christy was nearly asleep, so Steve lifted her to his shoulder as they got in the elevator.

"Did you have a good Thanksgiving, baby?" he asked softly.

"Never saw your USO tapes." she mumbled. Steve groaned.

"Someday, baby…"

"That means never."

Steve chuckled. "No, I'll show them to you, promise. Besides that, did you have a good day?"

"Uh-huh. Uncle Clint makes really good pie. And you make really good turkey." she yawned. "Did you have a good day?"

"Of course." Steve whispered. "I spent the whole day with you."

As he tucked Christy into bed and finally rolled into bed himself, he paused for a moment. A profound sense of gratefulness was flooding his whole heart.

The past year had been rough beyond reckoning—and yet…

And yet he was thankful. For his team. For the tiny girl sleeping two doors down.

For his life.

Nothing could replace what he'd lost. But he wouldn't trade what he'd been given in return.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Somehow, Steve didn't remember the Christmas season starting so _early._ He _liked_ Christmas, always had, but this seemed a little excessive.

Christy, on the other hand, was reveling in every moment of the holiday season. Thanksgiving was barely over, and she was already begging for a tree.

"C'mon, Dad, it's Saturday! We can go get a tree, it'll be fun!"

"Christy…" Steve sighed. "I don't…I don't exactly have anything to put _on_ the tree."

"Oh." Christy frowned, but only for a moment. "Well, can't we just _buy_ ornaments?"

"We could, but…" Steve felt like a complete killjoy, but the idea of a bunch of cheap, store-bought ornaments hanging on his tree, only heightened the feeling of homesickness that had crept up on him.

Christmas decorations were supposed to be objects with meaningful connections to something or someone. But most any object like that for him was either long gone or in the Smithsonian's collection.

"But you don't want to. Okay." Christy said quietly. "Do you have anything to tell me?" she asked, peering into his face.

That was code for ' _Dad, 'fess up, I know you're hurting._ '

Steve sighed again. "Nothing you don't already know." he whispered. "I miss home."

"I'm really sorry." Christy whispered back. "I wish…I wish I could make it better."

"I know you do." Steve hugged his daughter. "But let's face it; being maudlin isn't going to help. You want a tree?"

Christy nodded.

"Then we're getting a tree. And a tree stand. And some ornaments, for good measure. Let's go."

* * *

It really was a beautiful tree, Steve thought later. In order to borrow a car, they'd had to say where they were going. When Christy had announced that they were getting a Christmas tree, Clint and Natasha had opted to come along for the ride.

They'd offered to get a tree for the Common Floor as well, but Tony had waved them off, saying he'd take care of that (which really meant Pepper would).

In the end, they'd found a nice church selling trees at a decent price and bought a tree with plenty of height and branches. Clint had helped him bungee-cord it to the top of the car, while Christy shanghaied Natasha into gathering up as much loose greenery as possible.

The smell of fresh pine wafted through the car as they drove off to buy ornaments.

"It smells like pine even more if you do this." Clint said. He took a tiny, straight needle off one of the loose branches and crushed it between his fingertips. "See, you can really smell it now."

Christy copied the motion and sniffed at the broken needle. "Ooh! It smells really good!"

"Don't keep doing that, you'll get pine needles all over the car." Steve warned from the driver's seat.

Clint waved his hand dismissively. "Aw, Stark probably has some cleaner bot to get rid of all the needles."

"C'mon, Steve, live a little." Natasha joked.

"Oh…alright. Forget it. Trash the car if you want to." Steve replied, flashing a small smile at Christy.

At the store, Steve was pleased to see that Christy wasn't just interested in the Santa and snowman decorations (although they did grab plenty of those).

"I want this." she declared, pointing out a simple, plastic-wax Nativity scene. It wasn't as nicely made as some of the others on display, but the figures were colored—probably what drew in Christy.

"Alright." Steve said, putting the object in the cart.

They bought enough ornaments to cover the tree, including an angel for the top, as well as a wreath and a few other decorations. Steve also managed to buy some cookie cutters when Christy wasn't looking. He figured they could try out some of the recipes he remembered from childhood, as well as any that Christy knew.

By the time they got everything back to his floor and decorated, with Clint and Natasha's help, it was nearly dinner time, so they all went down to the Common Floor to eat.

Natasha went to see if she could persuade Tony and Bruce to join them. Whatever she said must have been _pretty_ persuasive, because she soon returned; the billionaire and the scientist trooping behind her.

Dinner food was an ordinary trend of 'the fridge is open, fend for yourself.' Dinner conversation, however, took a turn for the interesting.

It was Christy who started it. She loved music already, so having an entire season with a whole special repertoire of songs meant that she was either singing or humming something pretty much nonstop.

"If you were a Christmas song, what would you be?" she asked suddenly, addressing the group at large.

Clint grinned. "Tasha would be, 'Santa Clause is Comin' to Town.' 'She sees you when you're sleeping…she knows when you're awake.'"

"But Aunt Tasha's not creepy!" Christy protested.

"Tell that to her last two targets." Clint replied, smirking at Natasha.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Well, if we're going down that route, then you would be 'Angels We Have Heard on High.'"

"Of course, we don't actually hear him when he's on high…" Bruce added, getting into the spirit of things.

"Eh, close enough. What about Cap?" Natasha asked. Steve, who'd been spacing out a bit, jerked suddenly at hearing his nickname.

"Frosty the Snowman." Tony burst out.

Steve looked mildly annoyed. Everyone else just 'booed' Tony out, even Bruce.

"No, no, _no_!" Christy cried. "Uncle Tony, that's _mean_! Isn't…isn't there some song about a 'feast of Steven?' Some long, grown-up song?"

"'Good King Wenceslas.'" Bruce supplied. "That one actually suits you, Steve. It's about a king that goes out in the snow to bring supplies to a poor man." he added, for Christy's benefit.

"But it's about a saint…" Steve protested weakly.

"Sounds about right." Tony quipped. Everyone else nodded, Christy not the least. Steve groaned.

"Fine. Then what's Tony?"

"'We Three Kings,' of course." Tony replied, smirking. "'Bearing gifts, I travel afar.'"

Natasha snorted. "Well, you're rich enough for three kings."

All of a sudden, Steve burst out in a real, actual laugh.

"What, what is it?" Clint asked.

Everybody leaned forward as the super soldier caught his breath.

"There was this bad parody version of 'We Three Kings' that the boys in Catholic school used to sing…" Steve choked out. "I hadn't thought of it in ages!"

"Well, how did it go?" Bruce asked.

Voice quivering with mirth, Steve started to sing, "'We Three Kings, of Orient are; tried to smoke a rubber cigar; it was loaded and it exploded…' aw, I can't remember the rest, but I just thought of Tony and..." At that, Steve lost it and dissolved into laughter, with everybody else joining in.

"Alright, alright, I suppose I deserved that one." Tony muttered good-naturedly.

"So who's next?" Clint asked. "Bruce?"

The scientist shrugged. "Not really any Christmas songs about green rage monsters."

"Isn't there a song about holly, though?" Steve said. "Holly's green."

Clint nodded. "'The Holly and the Ivy;' although I don't even really know what it's about."

"Yeah, that's another one of those grown-up Christmas songs that make no sense." Christy said.

"They make sense when you're older." Bruce promised.

"Now for Christy…" Natasha said.

All the adults stared at the tiny blonde girl who had started this whole thing.

"Joy to the World?" Clint tried.

"I'm not Jesus!" Christy yelped.

Steve chuckled. "Now you know how I felt being compared to a saint."

"But saints are at least _people_ …."

"Jesus was a person, Christy."

The girl sighed. "Yeah…but He was different."

"'Hark, the Herald Angels Sing?'" Bruce offered.

Christy looked thoughtful. "Maybe…I do like to sing."

"'I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.'" Steve said quietly.

Everyone looked slightly confused.

"Never heard that one." Tony said.

"That's a _song_?" Clint echoed.

Steve nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "Yes, it's a song."

"Can you sing it, Daddy?" Christy asked.

Steve looked a bit uncomfortable. The only person he'd sung to since he'd woken up was Christy, and she didn't care if he hit the wrong note or went off key…

But his team was waiting expectantly, so he nodded, and began the song:

" _I heard the bells on Christmas Day_

_Their old familiar carols play,_

_And wild and sweet, the words repeat_

_Of peace on earth, good-will to men!_

_And thought how, as the day had come,_

_The belfries of all Christendom_

_Had rolled along, th' unbroken song_

_Of peace on earth, good-will to men!_

_And in despair, I bowed my head_

_'_ _There is no peace on earth,' I said._

_For hate is strong and mocks the song_

_Of peace on earth, good-will to men_

_Then pealed the bells more loud and deep_

_'_ _God is not dead, nor doth He sleep.'_

_The wrong shall fail, the right prevail_

_With peace on earth, good-will to men."_

As he finished the song, the room was basically silent, unless one counted breathing.

"That's my kid." he said. "The one who knows that even when everything looks terrible, everything will somehow come out okay."

He'd barely finished his speech before Christy was out of her chair, jumping on his lap.

"I love you, Daddy." she whispered.

* * *

As the weeks rolled by and Christmas got closer and closer, Christy started thinking about gifts.

She had never really given her mom a lot at Christmas, but she wanted this year to be different. Trying to figure out what to give her dad was the hardest, so she decided to start with all the other Avengers.

She got her first idea while in the lab with Bruce and Tony. On a small ledge in the lab, wedged in between power tools and screw drivers, sat a lacquered ceramic bowl. It was red and brown and gold, but funnily enough, the gold looked like cracks that had been fixed.

"Uncle Tony? Why do you have a bowl in your lab?"

It took Tony a moment to look up. "What's that, kid?"

Christy repeated her question, adding, "What if it breaks?"

Tony followed her gaze to the bowl, his 'concentration scowl' dissolving into a smile. "Pepper gave me that."

"Why does it look cracked?"

"That's…part of the art…thing. It's Japanese; they call it _kintsugi_." Tony said, grabbing the bowl off the shelf and holding it at Christy's eye-level. "If a bowl is broken, they fix it with gold paint, so the actual bowl is fixed, but the broken parts still show. Apparently, there's some philosophy about how a thing is more beautiful because it's been broken." He scoffed slightly, but there was no mistaking the affection in his tone. "Pepper got it for me, after…Iron Man."

Christy nodded. She'd heard enough of the story, enough to know when not to pry. "It's so pretty, Uncle Tony. Do you know where to get it? And…how much it costs?"

"Costs?" Tony sounded mildly insulted. "Kid, I'm Tony Stark. And you're…basically my niece. Money's no object. Here," he handed her a card. "This is a debit card. It's got…I dunno, a thousand dollars on it. Maybe more. Use it to buy Christmas presents."

Christy stared at him in shock, mouth agape.

"Tony…" Bruce warned. "That's maybe not the best idea."

"Jarvis, monitor any of Christy's purchases online and help her figure stuff out." Tony said.

"Of course, Sir." the AI replied. "Would you like to search for anything currently, Miss Rogers?"

Christy was still staring at the card. "Uh…not right now, Jarvis, I gotta ask Uncle Clint something."

"Very well, just let me know when you are ready and I will assist you."

"Thanks…" Christy shook her head. "Thanks, Uncle Tony. A thousand dollars!"

"Hey, I want you to get nice things. It's Christmas. You deserve it."

Bruce was smiling, nodding at Christy. "Told you so."

Christy grinned back. That was one gift figured out.

_Only seven more to go._

"Uh, Uncle Tony? One last thing…you don't think you could invent a time machine…could you."

For a moment, Tony looked confused. "Do I look like Emmet Brown? Why would you need…" and then it clicked. "Oh. Ah…no. Sorry, kid."

"That's okay…just checking."

As Christy left the room, Tony looked at Bruce. The scientist sighed.

"I almost wish we _could_ invent a time machine."

Tony nodded. "Yeah, that would be great…hold on…"

"What are you thinking, Tony?"

The billionaire smiled mysteriously. "Christy is about to get Steve the best Christmas gift ever. With a little help from me and Jarvis."

* * *

"Uncle Clint?"

Clint set down the practice bow he was using. "Yeah, Christy?"

"What's Aunt Tasha's favorite color? Or colors. It's for her Christmas present."

Clint noticed that Christy was carrying her laptop. "They're light green, light blue...springtime kind of colors. Did you find her a present? Can I see?"

Christy flipped the laptop around, so the screen was showing. "Here. I thought it would be a good present."

As Clint looked over the item description, he slowly started nodding. "Yeah, this is good. I think she'll like this. Heck, you might even make her cry!"

"Is that good or bad?"

"Good, definitely good. So, are you finding presents for everybody?"

Christy sighed. "Just Aunt Tasha right now. I don't suppose _you_ have any good ideas."

"Well…I wouldn't mind a new bow…" Christy rolled her eyes.

"Not for you! For Uncle Bruce and Uncle Tony. Or for Uncle Phil, Uncle Nick, or Aunt Maria. Or for dad…" she trailed off. "Dad's hardest. 'Cause what I wanna give him, I can't."

Clint nodded in sympathy. "I'm sorry, kid. I don't have any ideas for Steve…although I have it on good authority that Coulson will go nuts for anything with your dad's face on it."

Christy laughed. "Yeah, I'll ask dad for help on that one. What about Uncle Nick?"

A slow smile started to spread on Clint's face. Here was a chance to give Fury what might as well be a gag gift in a way the old man couldn't refuse.

"Well…"

* * *

Steve was up late, trying to be as tired as possible. Maybe if he were tired, he would sleep soundly that night.

_Aw, who am I kidding?_

He finally quit trying to watch whatever channel he'd flipped to on TV. Christy had long since gone to bed. Quietly, he got up and made his way into her room. The lights on their tree glowed softly.

Christy was asleep, as he'd thought—at least his daughter appeared to be having no bad dreams. Just as he was preparing to leave the room, his eye caught a piece of paper on her desk. Thinking it was some of Christy's homework, he grabbed it to put in her backpack.

But as he came out into the slightly lighted living room, he saw that the paper was definitely not homework.

_Dear God,_ it read in childish scrawl.

_I know that I'm supposed to write to Santa, but I found out he wasn't real when I was five._

Steve smiled at that. _That_ sounded like Christy.

_So I decided to write to You instead. I don't want a whole lot for Christmas. I already got the best gift ever, when I got adopted. But if I could have anything this year, it would be to make my dad be happy again._

Steve froze—and then made himself keep reading.

_He's trying to be happy for me, and I appreciate it, but he's sad. He misses his friends. I don't blame him. I miss mommy, but I'm not going to ask for her back. I know she's safe with You._

_So please, I'll take toys and clothes and stuff, but what I really want for Christmas is for my dad to smile again._

_Thank you very much,_

_Chrystal Elizabeth Rogers_

By this time, Steve was actually crying. He seriously had been trying to be happy, for Christy's sake. And he honestly hadn't been sad _all_ the time…

_But she knows anyway. She can tell. Oh, my baby…_

He looked at the letter, and addressed the Recipient of it.

"Please…I wanna give my girl a good Christmas—a good life! But it can't be good if I'm a mess. So I'm askin'…could You make me less of a mess? Just for December…or maybe for life. Please…"

The room didn't glow, angels didn't sing. He wasn't transported back to all that was familiar.

But all of a sudden, he was filled with the same feeling that whoever wrote 'I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day' must have felt. That someday, everything really would be alright.

And with that feeling, his heart grew lighter.

_Wait a minute…she_ _**did** _ _say that she wouldn't mind 'clothes and toys and stuff'…_

Steve grinned.

"I have a lot of work to do." he said, glancing down at the letter.

This was going to be Christy's best Christmas ever.

And possibly his own.


	16. Chapter 16

hapter Sixteen

"Uncle Tony," Christy asked. "are you _sure_ this plan is gonna work?"

It was the week before Christmas, and all through Avengers Tower, there was a constant undercurrent of secrecy as gifts of all kinds were plotted, bought, or both.

Tony waved his wrench in the air. Christy had come up to the lab to discuss Steve's gift. "Yeah, yeah; positive, kid. I've got everything all worked out. Nothing could possibly go wrong!"

Christy folded her arms. "That's what people in movies say. And then something goes wrong." she said warily.

"She's got a point, Tony." Bruce added. "Murphy's Law and all."

"I built the first Iron Man in a cave. With a box of scraps." Tony said patiently. "Murphy's Law has nothing on me."

Christy was starting to look nervous. When Tony had first suggested the idea, she'd been ecstatic; but now, with all this talk of Murphy's Law…

"Uncle Tony, please don't screw around with this! It's for dad and it's gotta be perfect and if you don't do it right, then I'm gonna find something else…"

Tony dropped the wrench and grabbed Christy's shoulders. "Hey. Stop it. I got this."

"Do you _really_ got this?"

Tony almost winced at the tone—a mix of skeptical and honest questioning. This kid got more and more like Steve every day.

"I promise. Look, I know I screw around a lot, but when it comes to stuff like this…I really don't screw around. Honest."

Christy nodded. "Alright." Like the sun after a rainstorm, her smile suddenly appeared. "Then this is gonna be the best present ever!"

* * *

As she came out of the sparring gym on the Common Floor, Natasha was assaulted by the sound of an argument. Steve and Clint stood in the kitchen, surrounded by baking sheets, flour, and a mixer.

"Quit eating it, or there isn't going to be enough left!"

"Oh, come on, you can always make more…"

"I'm warning you, Barton…"

"Trouble in paradise, boys?" Natasha quipped.

"I'm _trying_ to make cookies before I have to go get Christy from school; to surprise her." Steve said exasperatedly. "But _someone_ keeps eating the cookie dough as fast as I mix it."

Natasha looked with fake sternness at her friend. Clint just smirked back; not looking the least apologetic.

"What, everybody knows the dough is the best part!" he said.

Natasha shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

Clint and Steve glanced at each other. "You've never had raw cookie dough?" Steve asked.

"They didn't exactly make cookies in the Red Room, and once I was older…well, I don't really bake."

Without a word, Steve solemnly handed over the silver mixing bowl. Clint didn't even put up a fuss.

"Go on, try it. It's sugar cookie dough; you use it to make cutouts." Steve explained, holding up a snowman cookie cutter.

Natasha looked in the bowl at the doughy mass. "Do I just…" she mimed dipping her finger in.

Clint nodded. "Yup; now eat it!"

A curious expression flitted across Natasha's face as she tasted her first-ever bite of cookie dough.

"It's sweet." she said quietly.

"It's cookie dough; what'd'ya expect?" Clint joked. "Salty?"

The ex-assassin smiled. "Want some help, Steve? I know you've gotta leave to get Christy soon, and Barton's obviously no help."

Ignoring Clint's protests, Steve nodded. "Yeah, sure. This dough has to chill, but I have some more in the fridge. You roll it out and cut shapes; it's fun."

"I hope this isn't all you plan on making." Clint said. "We'll eat through this before Christmas even gets here!"

"We'll make more." Steve promised. "I told Christy we would make some together."

"Is this a pretty common thing, for Christmas?" Natasha asked; almost shyly. "Making cookies?"

The two men shrugged. "In America, at least it is." Clint said. "Dunno about the rest of the world."

"Yeah, even when we had basically nothing, my mom always managed to make Christmas cookies." Steve said. "She used to make molasses crinkles, 'cause molasses was cheaper than sugar. I was gonna make some with Christy."

Natasha nodded, satisfied. "I guess I just never paid attention to things like this. I haven't really been in a home for Christmas in…a long time."

"Yeah, because you always volunteer for jobs on Christmas." Clint muttered grumpily.

"Other people actually have families; they deserve a chance to be with them for holidays." Natasha countered.

"Well, you've got a home to be in _this_ Christmas." Steve said firmly. "I think Christy would go crazy if you didn't show up. She wrapped your gift last night and she was running around all excited."

"Oh, that thing finally showed up?" Clint said. "Good. She ordered it online and it was taking its sweet time getting here."

Steve looked slightly irked at the reminder of Christy's newly-gifted cash flow. He and Tony had had _words_ after that…

"You know what she got me?" Natasha asked. Clint snorted.

"'Course I know, who do you think she asked for help with what to get you? I also helped her out with getting a little something for Fury and Hill…"

"For Fury?" Steve groaned. "Barton, please tell me you didn't advise my daughter to buy anything stupid?"

"I make no promises…aw, c'mon, Steve; he actually likes her! He'll accept anything!"

Steve just rolled his eyes. "Here, Natasha, help me roll this dough out."

* * *

All too soon, it was Christmas Eve. In preparation for the craziness of Christmas Day, the team had elected for a quiet night, split up.

"Christy? Do you want to read the Christmas story?" Steve asked.

Christy frowned. "You mean the one about how Santa Clause comes through the chimney?"

"Well, actually…I kinda meant the real Christmas story, the Bible one."

Christy looked a bit happier. "Oh, okay! But isn't it kinda long?"

"We can take turns." Steve assured.

"Okay. I don't mind reading. Do you have a Bible?"

"Yep." Steve showed her the thick, leather book. "Do you want to start or me?"

"I can start!" Christy exclaimed.

"Alright, alright. Start…here." Steve flipped to the correct pages and pointed. "That line."

Christy glanced at the page and began to read. "'And it came to pass in those days that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed…"

Steve smiled as his daughter read her way through the familiar words. He was extremely proud of the way she didn't stumble over the hard-to-pronounce names.

"'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.'" Christy stopped reading. "That's like the song, the bell song. Can you sing that again, Daddy?"

Steve laughed. "How's about we finish the story first, alright? Then I can sing. I'll _teach_ you the song."

He finished the rest of the passage, and, as promised, sang 'the bell song.'

"I can't wait for tomorrow." Christy whispered as she finally let herself be tucked in for the night. Their tree had a good amount of presents under it, and Steve was quite sure that by tomorrow, Christy would be swimming in new things.

"You've got a lot of presents to open tomorrow." he whispered back. He kissed her on the forehead and left her to sleep, though not before hearing her say:

"Already got the best present ever..."

* * *

Christy woke up the next morning to the smell of bacon cooking. She sat up, stretched, and checked her clock like normal. It was about eight o'clock in the morning…

She suddenly froze.

_It's Christmas!_

She jumped off her bed and burst out the door into the living room. Steve was making breakfast at the stove.

"Merry Christmas, baby." he said, as she hurled herself into his arms.

"Merry Christmas, Daddy! Are we gonna open presents now?" she asked, looking at the tree imploringly. "But you did make breakfast…"

Steve laughed. "I don't see why we can't do both. Here, I'm almost done making the eggs. Make yourself some tea, and then we'll open presents."

Christy nodded and grabbed the tea bags out of the pantry. Being surrounded by so many adults drinking coffee, Christy had expressed interest in the drink—but one swallow, and she had proclaimed it 'nasty.' Bruce had suggested tea and Christy had liked it, so she could now drink something hot in the mornings like the grown-ups.

Breakfast in hand, the pair sat down beside the tree. After a few quick bites, Steve grabbed a package.

"Alright, open this one. Most of these are from me, although I think there's a couple from Clint and Bruce under here…"

Christy tore open the wrapping to reveal a stuffed bear…in full Captain America gear.

"It's a Captain AmeriBear!" she shrieked. "Thank you, Daddy! I love it!" She hugged the bear close to her chest. "I'm gonna get Natka, so they can be friends."

Steve smirked. 'Natka' was the doll Natasha had given Christy two months back, on her first night in the Tower. And yes, the doll w _as_ named after Natasha, who had looked a little shocked but ultimately pleased at the choice.

Christy continued tearing open presents—doll clothes and furniture, a stuffed dog (promptly dubbed 'Max'), and a new dress.

"Thank you, Daddy." she said, as she opened what appeared to be the last thing.

"One more thing…" Steve said, taking out a flat, rectangular package from deep behind the tree.

Christy opened the wrapping slowly. Inside was a simple colored-pencil sketch laminated onto a thin canvas.

It showed a tiny girl in a closet, hunched down as though hiding. The closet door was open and a man was bending down beside her.

The picture was titled, "Found You."

Christy just stared for a long time. Finally, she broke concentration long enough to hug Steve.

"Thank you. I'm sorry I didn't get you a lot; but your present is later."

Steve felt a bit puzzled at that, but pushed the feeling aside. "You're welcome, baby. Well, what did you get me that's _under_ the tree?"

Christy grabbed a rather sloppily wrapped package; clearly one she had done on her own. He tore off the paper…and almost gasped in shock.

They were just ornaments, and rather beat up ones, too. A tiny bear with 'fur,' a metal Santa Clause, a miniature Star of Bethlehem…

But they were _his_.

"Where…where did you _get_ these, baby?" he asked, voice choked.

"I told Uncle Phil what you said about not having any ornaments. He called some people, sounded pretty angry, too. Somethin' about 'the greatest war hero of the Greatest Generation not even getting his own… _darn_ …Christmas ornaments back.'"

Steve shook his head. He would have to thank Coulson later. "And this isn't the surprise?"

Christy grinned. "Nope! That's later!"

"I can't wait to see how you'll top this one." Christy just grinned even more.

_Oh, you'll see…_

* * *

Christmas dinner was a bit more low-key than Thanksgiving. Bruce had opted to make a roast, since Steve had done the turkey on Thanksgiving.

Unlike Thanksgiving, both Hill and Fury had managed to come, as well as Coulson and (rather obviously) Pepper.

There was one person missing, though.

"I'm a little surprised Tony's not here." Steve said.

Christy bit her lips shut and concentrated very hard on her dinner. Clint, Natasha, and Bruce all shot each other a look. They were all in on the plan.

"Oh, he'll be along eventually." Pepper replied. "He had some business to take care of in D.C…."

"Seriously, on Christmas?" Coulson asked. Pepper shrugged.

"You know Tony…"

As everybody finished eating, Christy sat up straight. "I have an announcement to make!"

All the adults smiled at that, even Fury.

"I got gifts for everybody!" She ran over to a pile of presents that sat in the entertainment area.

She started with Clint, who got a new archery glove in dark purple, the word 'Hawkeye' etched into it in gold. Pepper and Hill got twin necklaces, in dark blue and brown. Coulson got a vintage Captain America comic book, signed by the man himself.

Everybody laughed at Fury's present: a set of three new eye-patches: one tie-dye, one striped, and one polka-dotted.

Fury glanced over at Steve, who shook his head crazily. "No, way. Not me, sir."

He glanced at Pepper next, in lieu of Tony. "I'm fairly sure Tony had nothing to do with this." Pepper said, holding back a smirk.

"Barton?"

Clint gave his best poker face. "I have no idea what you're talking about, sir."

"Of course you don't."

But it was Bruce and Natasha's presents that won the day.

Natasha lifted a tiny heart necklace out of the box. It was painted light blue and orange and slashed through with golden cracks. Bruce's object was of a similar design, only his was a coffee cup, painted with blues, greens, and browns.

Bruce smiled. "So this is what you were up to."

Christy gave a little half-bow. "It's called kintsugi; it's Japanese. They fix the cracks with gold because something's more beautiful when it's been broken."

Natasha stared at the necklace in silence. No way was she going to cry, not here, not…

"Want me to help you put it on, Aunt Tasha?"

Natasha blinked back her growing tears. "Yeah…that would be nice."

No sooner had Christy fastened the clasp, when Jarvis' voice sounded through the room.

"Miss Potts, Mr. Stark is on his way in the elevator."

Christy's heart suddenly started beating a thousand miles an hour.

_Here it comes…please let this be good…_

"Thank you, Jarvis." Pepper said smoothly.

When the elevator door opened, Steve was looking at something Christy was showing him. He was prepared to hear Tony's loud voice and some half-baked explanation for showing up late.

What he heard instead was something quite different.

"So, are you ready for our dance, Captain?"

Christy squealed. Steve almost fell off the chair.

There, supported on Tony's arm, stood Peggy Carter. Age had taken its toll, of course, but the woman still stood nearly arrow straight and her eyes were bright and clear.

As if in a dream, Steve stood up. He could hear Christy's excited chatter in the background, could hear the others talking, but his eyes were rooted to one person only.

"Peggy…" he whispered.

The woman smiled—that same smile, and said, "You're late, you know."

"I…" his voice choked. "I got held up a bit." he swallowed. "You know, I still don't know how to dance."

"That's alright…I haven't waited this long to be held back by practicalities."

He gently took her off of Tony's arm and held her still, for one brief moment.

"I'm so sorry." he whispered. "I should've landed the plane, I should've…" Peggy shushed him.

"Don't give me 'should've's' Steve Rogers, not now. Now's our chance to spit in the eye of unhappiness, let's not ruin the moment."

At a signal from Tony, music began to play:

_"You must remember this_

_A kiss is still a kiss_

_A sigh is still a sigh_

_The fundamental things apply_

_As time goes by…"_

Steve seriously couldn't dance, so they ended up semi-awkwardly swaying around the free space of the Common Floor.

"I'm so glad you're alive." Peggy said quietly. "I'm so glad you have the chance for a life, for peace."

"Do I?" Steve said, a hint of desperation sneaking into his voice. "Do I really have that chance anymore?"

"Yes! Oh, yes. Steve, whatever happens to me, I want you to live! You have a child now, and a team that needs you. I know it can't be easy, but you must try."

Steve smiled, even after everything, she could still inspire him. "Yes, ma'am." he whispered. "I'll try."

"And Steve…when your heart is ready, you have my permission to move on. You deserve a chance at happiness."

The song ended and Christy walked over, her earlier exuberance dampened by shyness.

"Did you like your present, Daddy?" she asked, gazing sideways at Peggy.

Steve grabbed her into a side hug and kissed the top of her head. Tears leaked out of his eyes.

"I loved it, baby."

"Well!" Peggy smiled. "This must be the famous Christy I've been hearing so much about from Anthony on the way here. It's good to finally meet you at last."

Christy still looked shy, but less. "May I hug you?" she asked.

"Of course."

Christy hugged the older woman gently, her face once more split by a smile.

"Well, she certainly isn't lacking in manners."

"My kid?" Steve grinned. "Not likely. And according to pretty much everyone, she's basically becoming my clone."

"Am not!" Christy protested. "Although I definitely don't like bullies. And I will fight them."

"Then the next century is in safe hands." Peggy paused, and then added, "Christy, has your father told you the story of the time he jumped on a grenade in basic training, _before_ the serum?"

Christy shook her head and gazed accusingly at Steve. "Aren't grenades dangerous?"

"It was a dud—wasn't real!" Steve explained hastily.

"Yes, but you hardly knew that at the time…"

As Christy became engrossed in Peggy's story, Steve sought out Tony for a quick moment.

"Thank you, Tony." he said, sincerity oozing from his voice.

Tony, for once, didn't brush it off like nothing. "It was the kid's idea. Well, sort of. She wanted to know if I could invent a time machine, but that was a bit short notice, so I…" he rubbed the back of his neck. "I thought this would work."

"It worked." Steve assured him.

"I'm glad. You…you deserved this. I know I can act like a jerk, and I know I'm not Howard, but…" Steve cut him off.

"You may not be Howard, but I'm proud to call you my friend anyway, Tony Stark."

Tony smiled, an actual, true smile; not the one he used on the press.

Steve glanced around the room at the people he would call his family. They were unconventional, strange, and downright annoying on occasion.

But they were his. He was home.

Somewhere out in the city, the church bells rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because, dang it, Steve deserved that dance after all he'd been through! Hope you enjoyed. :)
> 
> ~theoriginalbookthief


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

It was already New Year's Eve—Steve could barely believe it. It seemed as though the days since that wonderful Christmas night had flown by like nothing.

Peggy was able to stay until New Year's Day, so the past week had been full of lots and lots of conversations. Christy, of course, was interested in any and every story about Steve, before and after the serum. She was, however, also very distracted by her mountain of Christmas presents, especially one in particular.

She had given Tony her gift that Christmas night—a t-shirt and coffee mug with "World's Greatest Uncle" written on it. (It wasn't the most original gift, but as Christy had put it, what _were_ you supposed to give the man who had everything?)

Tony's gift to _her_ had been a bit more interesting.

Apparently, word had gotten around the Tower that Christy wasn't half bad on a punching bag. So Tony had made her a custom punching bag, with a technological twist. The bag was almost like a very sturdy computer, with a set of holographic images that could be projected out of it, onto the bag's smooth surface.

Images like Red Skull, Chitauri mooks, and, naturally, Adolf Hitler himself.

Christy had been enthralled immediately. Steve could well remember the conversation he'd had with Peggy that night:

_"_ _I get to punch bad guys like Daddy!" Christy cried. Steve tried not to wince._

_"_ _You're scared for her." Peggy whispered. "But you mustn't be. There's so much promise in her."_

_"_ _I want her to be innocent, to have a childhood." Steve said. "I'm worried she won't. I've only had her for two months and she's already talking about being like me. I don't_ _**want** _ _her to be like me; I want her to be safe. I don't want her to lose…that ability to look at the world and know that things will work out somehow, that evil will ultimately fail and good will ultimately win."_

_Peggy smiled sadly. "I don't think there's much a chance of her becoming a cynic. But to fight that chance, you must show her the good in the world. Let her read fairy tales."_

_"_ _Fairy tales?"_

_"_ _A wise man once said, 'fairy tales do not teach children that evil exists, children know this. Fairy tales teach children that evil can be beaten.' Or something like that. Let her read and listen and learn from the stories of heroes, and I think you'll find that when the time comes, she won't lose her true innocence. Just remember; there is quite a difference between innocent and normal. Your little one may be innocent, but I doubt that she shall ever be normal."_

Steve sighed, remembering the boisterous, sympathetic, beautiful child who had stolen his heart all those months ago.

No, he was quite sure that she would never be normal. But maybe that wasn't so bad after all.

Said child was currently having a sparring lesson with Natasha. Tony was actually out of the lab, having a conversation with Peggy. Well, it sounded a bit more like an anger-born-of-worry _scolding_ , but he wasn't about to pry.

And he was reminiscing. After all, wasn't that what New Year's Eve was for?

So much had changed in the past year; he hardly knew where to begin. He remembered waking up in the SHIELD hospital, running like a madman to get out of the room, the chaos and confusion of Times Square…

There had been a lot of terrifying experiences in his life, but none could ever top that.

He remembered the weeks afterwards; the evaluations, the doctors, the endless rounds of questions. He'd had a few of his own:

_Is everyone I loved dead? What am I supposed to do? Does anyone even care? Is there still room in this world for Captain America? For Steve Rogers?"_

He could now say that he mostly had answers to those questions. _Not_ everyone he loved was dead, he was supposed to help protect people (just as he'd always wanted), and he had a whole team that actually did care about him.

And as much as this world needed Captain America, it needed Steve Rogers, the stubborn punk from Brooklyn, just as much.

He still missed the old familiar things of his time. He still missed Bucky like a constant ache in his chest. But life was no longer unbearable.

Natasha came striding out of the sparring gym. "Steve, get in here and watch! It's the best thing ever!"

"If it involves my kid and that punching bag, then I kinda doubt it."

"Oh, come on!"

Sure enough, Christy was having a grand time raining blows on her new present. The image projected was, no surprise, Hitler.

"I'm gonna get you!" he heard Christy mutter. "I'm Captain America's daughter, and nobody messes with me!"

The images also had a wonderful trait—the longer one hit them, the more realistically beat-up they became. Hitler's face was looking quite the worse for wear.

Steve couldn't help but smile. The scene was equal parts adorable and scary. A bit more training and he would soon pity anyone that ever tried to attack his girl.

Christy finally stopped for a break. "Did I break it yet, Aunt Tasha?"

"Break what?" Steve asked, though he had his suspicions.

Natasha smirked. "Your record. You apparently punched Hitler in the jaw over two hundred times."

Steve groaned. "I don't even know how that got recorded! I said it almost for a joke that day; to get the guys I was rescuing to trust me!"

"Well, two hundred is a nice, round number, so we're sticking with that." Natasha said. Christy nodded exuberantly.

"Aren't…aren't you proud of me, Daddy?" she asked, a little hesitantly.

"Of course I am!" Steve said. "I guess…I feel like I just got you and now you're starting to grow up so fast…"

Christy hugged him. "Don't worry, Daddy, I'm not goin' anywhere. If I go fight, I'll go fight with you. I'm gonna follow Captain America into the jaws of death!"

Steve held back the urge to facepalm.

"The jaws of death are pretty scary, kid." Natasha said softly.

"I know. But I'm not afraid. Because nobody can beat Dad. He's the greatest!"

Steve sighed and made a private resolution: _This year, I will actually live up to that…or at least attempt to._

* * *

Obviously, Tony had thrown a party. It was Tony, what did anyone expect?

Pepper had convinced him not to invite as many people as he had in previous years ("no business acquaintances, no people you secretly hate, and no reporters—there's a kid in this Tower, you know!").

"The kid in the Tower" was allowed to stay up until midnight, mostly because Steve knew he'd never hear the end of it (from Christy and from the team) if she couldn't. Besides, no one was doing anything the next day until at least noon.

The party was held on an upper floor of the Tower, with a door that led out to the roof. Steve was currently standing out there, looking down at the city.

"Isn't it bad form to leave your date alone at a party?" came Natasha's voice behind him.

Steve grinned. "Peggy can handle herself just fine. Besides, she's with Tony…and she's one of the few people I actually trust Tony to look after. Plus, Christy's hanging around them. I trust my kid."

"You don't ever get tired of saying that, do you?"

"What, 'my kid'? Nope, not at all. I never will."

Natasha smiled softly. "Penny for your thoughts."

"Just…reflecting on the past year. Everything."

"Are you…alright?"

Ever since their conversation almost two months back, Natasha had become nearly as vigilant as Christy at ferreting out when he was slipping into melancholy. Clint was a close third.

"I think so. Better than I might have been."

"Without the kid, you mean."

Steve sighed. "Yeah…without the kid. I honestly don't even want to imagine it. She…" he lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "She gave me more of a purpose than SHIELD ever could, than the _Avengers_ ever could."

It sounded harsh. But Natasha nodded. "It's different. She needs you. We do, too, but not in the same way. The Avengers need your leadership, your strategy…and yes, your friendship. She needs her Daddy."

"She needs to know that every morning when she wakes up, I'll be there for her. She needs me for the moments I'm _not_ fighting." Steve paused. "And that's nice. To be needed in those moments."

"'To be found.'" Natasha quoted. "Wasn't that her thing? She wanted to be found; _needed_ to be found. And so did you."

Steve smirked just a tiny bit. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"I know, I know, the utter irony of the closed-book spy telling you that you needed to open up to someone. Well it was still true."

"Isn't that what we all want, anyway?" Steve said quietly. "To be found?"

* * *

It was about ten minutes before the countdown and Christy had hidden in the bathroom to snatch some peace and quiet to think.

"Now I know why Dad didn't want me at one of Uncle Tony's parties." she muttered. "It's _loud_!"

 _Uncle Tony._ Part of Christy was still a bit in shock that she was able to call one of the most famous men in the country 'uncle.' Actually, make that _three_ of the country's most famous men ( _four_ if Thor ever showed up).

Even crazier, she got to call one of the greatest heroes in the country 'Dad'.

Her mom had kept some of the old Captain America comics from the 40's, passed down when her own mother had died. So Christy had grown up hearing about the brave Steve Rogers just as much as she'd grown up hearing about her own birth dad.

When they had found Captain America in the ice, it had been all over the news. She could still remember her mother's remark:

_"_ _I bet he's so lonely…I can't even imagine how hard this must be for him."_

It had been whispered in passing, but it had made a mark on Christy. While everyone else gushed over Captain America the hero (including her), there had always been a small part of her that sympathized with Steve Rogers the man, especially after her mom died.

And now, she was his kid. Life was funny like that.

Christy realized that she still had yet to make a New Year's resolution. Tally had said that it was silly to make them, since nobody ever kept them, but Christy was determined to never bow to stereotypes.

_In 2013, I'm gonna…_

Not watch so much TV? Play outside more? Do homework without being asked? Be nicer to Tyler Morrigan?

None of those seemed good enough.

She thought about her Dad; all the grief he still dealt with. She thought about her aunts and uncles. She thought about the kids still at the center. She thought about herself.

"I'm gonna learn how to help people not hurt inside and live happy."

Satisfied, Christy exited the bathroom. It was 11:56, almost time. She ran out on the roof to find her dad.

* * *

"There you are!" Steve cried as Christy came bounding toward him across the roof. "And where's your coat, it's freezing out here!"

Beside him, Peggy smiled. It was rather hilarious when Steve went into 'dad mode'.

Christy shrugged. "You're warm. I'll be okay."

Steve groaned. _Oh well, we can work on that later…_

From the roof, they had the perfect view to watch the ball drop in Times Square. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could feel Natasha, Clint, Tony, Bruce, and Pepper gathering near to the three of them.

"Almost time." Clint said. "Crazy how fast the year flies."

Bruce nodded. "2013…let's hope it _doesn't_ top 2012 in a few areas…"

Tony shrugged. "I'm ready for whatever."

"And whatever happens, we're together for this." Steve added.

"'Till the end of the line." Christy whispered. It had become one of her favorite phrases.

Steve ruffled her hair. "Forever I'll love you; 'till the end of the line I'll stay with you."

That was _his_ new favorite phrase.

Down in the Square, the countdown had begun.

_Ten…nine…eight…seven…six…five…four…three…two…one! Happy New Year!_

Cheers of happiness erupted from the rooftop of Avengers Tower. Another year had begun. Life went on.

It was time for a new chapter to begin.

* * *

Somewhere in the distance, drowned out by fireworks, the crack of lightning sounded.

Bruce's wish would be granted; 2013 would _not_ top 2012 in terms of alien invasions, or the necessity for all the Avengers to assemble.

But it would definitely go on the books as the oddest year in the Tower yet.


End file.
